


Just the Two Of Us

by distantstarlight



Series: Season to Season [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time Topping, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, John is a Saint, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidnapping, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Not Canon Compliant, Possessive Sherlock, Siblings, Teasing, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have finally FINALLY gotten together over the holidays. A little scheming has gotten them a nice vacation getaway where they can enjoy their new relationship someplace far away from all their troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hotel

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after S3 and bears no relation to anything that happened this season. This is a total divergence from canon having passed through the JohnLocked morass that is my brain. These boys belong together, that's all I'm saying.
> 
> I think they have it in them to be unabashedly romantic, don't you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lovers have earned their vacation away, so romantic.

It began at the hotel. They had just checked in and were on their way to their room when all hell broke loose. Luggage flew everywhere and soon there were screams as guns were pulled and masked men had everyone present raise their hands. John just so happened to be behind a potted plant, a fact Sherlock later twitted him about but at the time was very, very fortunate. John crept up behind the fellow in black closest to him, and with a lightning strike managed to render him unconscious before using the newly appropriated gun to put a shot through the arms of each the two other armed men in the room, generally saving everyone.

Once the furor had settled down and the local police involved Sherlock and John were allowed to go back to their now free hotel room, having unintentionally saved a visiting diplomat from case of near fatal political intrigue. The second the door closed behind a fawning bellhop Sherlock swarmed all over John. The surprised doctor had his face kissed all over while Sherlock rhapsodized about how brave John was and how fast he had been. “I just stood there John. You did it all. You were amazing. Just fantastic.”

Sherlock could not stop thinking about it. They'd been traveling all day, a cab ride to the airport, a flight, more cabs and finally, their hotel which had been re-booked at the last minute due to some kind of clerical error. The entire time Sherlock's cheeks were faintly pink and he glowed. He tried for indifference. He tried for casually sneering at lesser beings who ebbed and swirled around them as they made their way to and from their flight. He failed miserably. Sherlock was head over heels in love with John Watson and the magic of their first night together had yet to fade.

O _h he'd played it cool. Sherlock wasn't an out of control savage just because he'd finally had sex!_ _Had he not gotten out of bed early that morning and done exactly as promised?_ _Yes, he had_. Sherlock had researched quickly, downloading several different ideas that he incorporated into a wildly complicated database he'd designed. John had made him tea and sandwiches before he packed a small amount of things for their trip, never once making Sherlock feel awkward or uncomfortable despite the huge shift in their relationship.

_Still_. Every time Sherlock's eyes cut to the soldier by his side his cheeks would heat. He kept getting lost in the new wing of his mind palace. The love bite under his jaw still stung pleasantly and had purpled gloriously. Sherlock couldn't help but remember how John's mouth felt on his skin, or how warm John was to lay against, or how safe John made Sherlock feel, or how perfect John felt when Sherlock held him tight against his body, or the way he tasted or....

“You okay?” John had asked after signing in at the reception desk. Sherlock's face lit up again, the heat of his blush making him extra aware of his new problem. Also the receptionist was smiling rather blatantly at John. Her eyes flickered over the doctor discretely, but not discretely enough for Sherlock to miss. She was dark and pretty, fit and young. A small jeweled necklace with the letter _A_ suspended from it glittered appealingly from her neck, drawing the eye to her chest. Sherlock stepped closer and into John's personal space and looked sternly at her. The too friendly smile lingered for a second then dropped away and she went back to booking them in. John hadn't noticed the look but he did notice the blush. “Too hot?”

_Thank heavens for Doctor John!_ “Yes John. It's much warmer than I anticipated. I feel flushed.” Excuse firmly in place Sherlock picked up his suitcase and strode toward the elevator. He needed to get John far away from the front desk. John got the rest of their very minimal luggage and followed.

Then the incident with the diplomat had happened and now Sherlock was all aflutter inside. John wasn't letting anything go. He was a bulldog sometimes, relentless and merciless. It was a quality about John that Sherlock both loved and hated. John never gave up. One look at Sherlock's face was all it took. The blush was back.

“You sure?” asked John, a small smirk on his face. He stood at ease beside Sherlock, comfortable with himself and his place near his lover. John was seemed so relaxed, so unaware. Sherlock sometimes wondered if he was the only person in the world who realized John was more than he seemed. His soft sweet exterior hid a ruthless fighter that had no hesitation or remorse. Sherlock felt weak in the knees.

“Of course I'm sure I'm fine John. Why?” Sherlock eyed John suspiciously. _John's face was sweet and warm. His lips looked so inviting._ Sherlock was tempted to lean over and kiss him but resisted. He stiffened his spine and looked away, resolute. _He wasn't a slave to his limbic system! He was Sherlock Holmes and he could comport himself in public!_

“Well. You're carrying your own suitcase. Did you hit your head or something when I wasn't looking?” Sherlock cursed himself _. He'd always forced John to deal with their luggage. In fact, all of it neatly clipped together to make it easier for the smaller man. Sherlock was never normally concerned with what happened to his luggage. If it got lost he'd just buy more things. He wasn't emotionally attached to his pants and socks_. John however kept rigid track of every single thing they brought with them whenever they went places. Normally he would have handled all their things but instead Sherlock had grabbed his bag and run off with it without a thought. _He had been fussing over John_.

“Your limp is coming back and I think I can hear your hip bone grating. I thought that with your advanced years perhaps I should assist before you collapse. Have you read up on osteoporosis? Maybe we should increase the calcium in your diet. I don't want you snapping like a twig.” _There. Perfect cover_. John just chuckled and selected the topmost floor. Mycroft had gotten them the best room in the hotel.

“Ah yes, _the limp_. I suppose I should get off my feet as soon as possible.” John spoke so mildly. There was nothing insinuating or suggestive in his tone or words but nonetheless Sherlock's cheeks flamed up. _For heaven's sake! What did it matter if John had just been terrifically noble as well as amazingly dashing? He did that all the time_. Now Sherlock was like the blushing brides of old. _So what if he'd engaged in coitus with John. That shouldn't change anything else in his life. What the devil was going on with him?_

Sherlock realized he hadn't deduced anyone their entire trip. It had also gone by in a blur. Sherlock barely recalled the journey. He didn't even know the name of the hotel they were standing in. Sherlock had not spent time in this part of Italy so he had no familiarity with it. That was part of the reason they'd decided on Florence, so they could discover it together. Sherlock had rather inconveniently deleted his knowledge of Italian which John had lectured him on before telling him to quit deleting things and just deal with the information some other way.

Sherlock looked around. The elevator had no character. It was mirrored walls on all sides. The carpet was black and gold but there was nothing incongruous about it. There was a discrete gold plate above the control panel. _Apertura_. When the doors slide open Sherlock picked up his bag again with another blush and strode forward before recalling that John had the key card for their door. His blush heated up and he stepped to the side to make room for the doctor. Sherlock gave himself a talking to inside his head, _Pull yourself together man! John is going to think you are on drugs again!_

John was having the best vacation ever and they'd only just gotten to the hotel. The trip with Sherlock had been hysterical. John's sides were sore from stifling his laughter all day. Sherlock was so dreamy, so blissed out he barely noticed the world. John had navigated the tall man around like a huge puppet all day long. John felt proud of the reaction his lovemaking had had but he was also Sherlock's best mate and couldn't resist egging that lovely blush along. Sherlock was placid and helpful, polite and tolerant. He hadn't commented on the woman with the screaming child that had sat behind them on the plane. Sherlock hadn't even jumped in to help when John had shot the attackers, instead choosing to simply stand there with a fatuous expression on his face. Sherlock hadn't said a word about the couple who had tried to engage them in conversation after, he just stared at John with the same silly smile on his face.

Slotting the key card into place John pushed the door open, stepping forward before stopping cold. _Fucking Mycroft!_ John stared around. This was obviously this hotel's version of the honeymoon suit. It was garishly done up in black and gold. The scarlet letter _A_ was discretely emblazoned here and there, adding splashes of vibrant color to the décor. The furnishings were all large, sturdy and clearly made to wipe down easily. It was John's turn to have heated cheeks as he saw the layout. There was no privacy anywhere.

Sherlock pushed his way past John and said nothing. They stood side by side and gaped at the _everything_. The room was vast. The bed was right in the center, a huge decadent monstrosity that spread wide and low. Radiating away from it were various plush chairs and divans, one side ending in a small lounge area and the other on an open balcony that was furnished with long low padded benches. The bathing area was exactly that, _an area_. A large whirlpool was sunk into the marble tiled floor, a shower came out of the wall where it obviously drained off into a grate on the floor. The toilet was modestly tucked into the only space that might be considered a room but everything else was right out in the open.

There was a large cellophane wrapped basket on one of the end tables. John dropped the suitcases and went to it. He shook his head and handed the card to Sherlock who read it out loud, “ _Congratulations on your union – M_ ” John tore open the opaque wrappings. Inside was a large collection of condoms, lube, as well as a rather frightening assortment of sex toys, batteries and a large tub of salve. “Sherlock. Does your brother think we got married or something?” _John's loathed how Mycroft always smirked knowingly at them even before there was anything to know. Every time Sherlock's brother came to visit it made John's skin itch. It may have been possible at one point to have been friends with Mycroft despite how much he irritated Sherlock but that time had passed after John discovered Mycroft's betrayal of his only brother to James Moriarty_.

“I can't tell you what Mycroft thinks John. Why?” John showed him the card. Sherlock tore it to pieces and threw it in the bin. He glanced at the basket and rolled his eyes before striding away. Not about to be routed by Sherlock's interfering older brother John calmly dug through the gift basket and extracted the selection of lube, leaving everything else behind. He set them by their bed and began to unpack.

Sherlock couldn't help but think of the contents of the basket. He knew technically what all of it was for. He _was_ a scientist after all and many crimes were motivated by sex. He wasn't entirely ignorant no matter what Mycroft or Irene implied. Sherlock was suddenly struck with the realization that John could theoretically use each and every item in there on him. His knees went weak again. “Dinner?” called John. Sherlock nodded, grateful for the distraction. He needed out of this room. There was something off-putting about it but Sherlock couldn't get a bead on what troubled him.

After stowing everything in a standing wardrobe. John laid out two suits. Sherlock tucked his suitcase away at the bottom of the wardrobe after John's was settled on top of it on the rack provided. There was no place private to go to get dressed so they just stripped down to their pants without comment, washed up in the sink they found near the shower and dressed again. It was early in the evening on Christmas Day and such a long way from Baker Street.

Sherlock looked breathtaking the way he always did. His snow white shirt clung to him. His navy velvet suit was perfectly tailored to enhance all the delicious lengths and angles of his body and his hair was temporarily tamed with the prudent application of product. He looked wild yet elegant. John felt frumpy in his dark blue suit with his short cropped hair that defied any sort of styling efforts. John felt like someone's elderly dad. He was debating about using a tie, morosely wondering if he'd entered the bow tie years when he heard Sherlock whisper huskily, “John. You look entirely delicious.”

John turned in surprise and looked up at the taller man. Sherlock's eyes were drifting down John's body and the expression on his face could only be termed as hungry. “Like what you see?” teased John, flattered all over again that _he_ for some bizarre reason was attractive to Sherlock. Sherlock's smile quirked up at the corner.

“I _love_ what I see.” said Sherlock simply and John melted. Sherlock stepped in and pressed a kiss to John's cheek. “Come along John.” He took John's arm and led him from the room before the doctor could work himself into an insecure frenzy the way he always did when he wore a suit. The elevator was open and waiting for them so Sherlock just guided John inside and selected the main floor. “All our meals are included with the room as are all the hotel amenities. I saw a rather tasteless looking gift shop. We must remember to pick up something suitably garish for Mrs. Hudson.”

That made John giggle and Sherlock grinned as his soldier relaxed again. John got fussed about the strangest things. You'd think a man who had invaded a foreign country, faced down a whole group of armed men and managed to convince Sherlock Holmes to have sex would be more confident. For some reason John was instinctively wary of dressing up, as if he became a class traitor by removing his hideous jumper for a night out. John also worried about his figure which Sherlock didn't understand at all. John was _gorgeous_. Sherlock envied all of John's curves and valleys. His own body was straight, featureless and completely boring. John's body was an adventure holiday with a road map made of scars included.

John twisted his head up to look at Sherlock who still had his hand on John's elbow. Sherlock always moved with unearthly grace. His eyes caught the lights and the colors of his prism eyes changed constantly. “You look stunning Sherlock, really. People are going to wonder if I've paid for you. There's no way they're going to believe you'd be out with me by choice.”

“Are you saying I look like a rent-boy?” demanded Sherlock. John burst out laughing at the offended tone. Sherlock was examining himself in the many available mirrors, patting down the mass of raven black curls. If Sherlock were available for a price it would be one of those multiple zero situations. John could never afford it, not in a million years.

“Of course you don't love! I'm saying you are incredibly gorgeous and I am decidedly plain. You're like one of the elements, like the air, out of reach, unattainable. I'm more like the earth. The common clay everyone literally walks all over. It's obvious I don't deserve you.” _John actually believed what he was saying! How could he? John was the sexiest man on the planet, a double oh, a white knight!_ Sherlock was amazed.

“John please don't be silly. If you were an element you wouldn't be _earth_. You would be _water_.” stated Sherlock firmly. John was being ridiculous. _Common clay? Nonsense. John had it all wrong_.

“Water? Why water? Am I all wet? Do I drown you in my plainness? I'm literally a wet blanket to your grand airiness?” Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's disparaging tone. The elevator door opened and he led John past the reception desk toward the dining room. Allowing John to go in front of him Sherlock allowed his hand to drift to the small of John's back as he escorted his lover to dinner.

There was different woman behind the registry counter now, this one tall and fair. Like the woman who had checked them in this one eyed John too and Sherlock glared at her over John's head. Various guests lounged on the plush leather furnishings scattered around and threw the couple friendly smiles as the pair strolled along. Sherlock wasn't sure of the protocol _. Did he nod back, or smile, or wave?_ He opted for doing nothing and kept escorting John to the dining room. _He'd have to stay extra close to his soldier who had clearly dazzled everyone already. There were predators everywhere_.

The dining room was tastefully under-decorated for the holidays. A faint hint of tinsel, a very artful display of holly and other festive decorations touched the decadent interior lightly. A concierge led them to a discrete table closed off with long velvety curtains. They could keep them drawn mostly shut as they were now or throw them wide open so the entire restaurant came into view. There was much greenery draped around and the whole little room was lit with a multitude of tiny white lights. The table was dressed with heavy white table cloths and tall clear crystal to go with the richly patterned tableware. It was beautiful without being effeminate and John actually liked it. A server approached.

The man was long and lithe, warm toned, and very pretty. Wine list and menus extended the young man extolled the virtues of various holiday specialties. He was looking back and forth between both of them but John soon noticed his eyes lingering on Sherlock's fair skin and long fingers. John took Sherlock's hand immediately, laying blatant claim on the detective. The young server was darkly gorgeous and had a delightfully impish look to his face. Sherlock was reading his menu and didn't notice the lingering glances he was being given. With a bow the young man excused himself to allow them time to make their choices. He gave Sherlock one last look before he disappeared. John frowned, “This would have been a lot easier if you'd bothered to remember how to speak Italian.” complained John as he tried to read the menu. He gave up in irritation and set it beside his plate.

Sherlock pretended to read for a minute more then picked up the wine list. Those names he recognized. As soon as he set the list down the server reappeared, his note pad at the ready. _Sherlock didn't like him. He was too friendly and he kept looking at John! Well, John was very handsome but still. He was clearly taken. Why was it so hard to find professional service these days?_ Annoyed Sherlock pointed out the wine he wanted and spitefully made the young man repeat the specials three times, selecting the first two for both of them. With an overly warm smile the young man disappeared. Sherlock glared after him. “He was _looking_ at you John!” exclaimed Sherlock angrily.

“Nope. Not at me. _You_. He's been giving you the eye since he first saw you.” John's own jealousy evaporated the second he'd heard Sherlock. _Now John felt a bit silly at being jealous at all when he knew perfectly well how clingy Sherlock got with things he merely liked. John should never have even entertained the thought that anyone but him would ever have a chance to be romantic with his detective who was prickly enough to keep away nearly everyone_. Sherlock turned to look at John, his eyes stormy. “Serious love. Why do you think we're holding hands now?”

Sherlock looked down. He had noticed but now his fingers tightened around John's. John was _his_ and Sherlock was a bit surprised at the relief he felt when he realized how possessive John was of him as well. _It felt nice to know John didn't want anyone else to have him, as if anyone else really did_. “He's not getting a tip, I can tell you that much.” muttered Sherlock. He wasn't rewarding a scoundrel for making eyes at _his_ John.

The younger man shifted a bit looking irate then turned to John. John decided to change the subject before Sherlock got stroppy and ruined dinner. “So, about the elements?” he prompted. That comment had actually gotten his attention and he wondered what Sherlock had meant by it.

Sherlock looked down at John and his face became tender. “John, if you were an element you would be water because it _seems_ so simple but it is not. The properties of water are constantly being discovered, there's always a new surprise in the world of science because of it. Water is forever. The water we have with us today is the same water that was present before the dinosaurs roamed the earth. It changes constantly, can exist in any state, melds with anything but it always returns to being simple unassuming water. _You_ are _water_ John. You are steadfast and permanent, you are adaptable, and you persevere. No matter what happens to you, what trials you endure, you always go back to being _just John_. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I could never get tired of learning all the permutations of you. There is no life without water, and no life for me without John Watson.” Sherlock leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to John's mouth.

John was astounded. _That was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to him. That Sherlock Holmes had said something so sentimental to John meant nearly as much as the words themselves. Sherlock was not given to sentiment at all. He had just let John know in no uncertain terms how vital he was to Sherlock's overall well-being_. John swelled with love and pride. “I love you Sherlock. Thank you for that.”

“Anytime John. Now that we are dating I would like to make sure you are adequately informed of your importance to me. I have reason to believe I can become easily remiss regarding that duty so I wish to make a habit of it right away. I don't want you slipping away from me because you feel unappreciated.” _Sherlock would cease to exist if John went away. Sentiment made Sherlock uncomfortable but he was very certain that life without John would be much much worse. He could say the words John needed to hear and if repetition were required then that was a small enough sacrifice for Sherlock to make to keep John happy_.

_It was working_. John was smiling broadly. “Consider me informed and very pleased. FYI. That waiter was totally making eyes at you.” Sherlock rolled his eyes in disbelief. John sat there adorably uncomfortable in his smart suit, his gold and silver hair tidied neatly to the side and his sweet blue eyes shining happily. Sherlock felt like a nicely dressed corpse, colorless but ready for viewing.

“Why would anyone want to look at me when you are sitting right there John? All the women in this hotel have been ogling you since we arrived! Some of the dinner guests are eying you right now! I'm very tempted to switch hotels.” Sherlock's sulky face was coming back. John was very happy he now had the liberty of pulling Sherlock closer and kissing the pout off his face. If anyone were looking they would be able to see clearly how uninterested John was in anyone else.

“They were probably wondering how an old man like me could afford a high priced model like yourself.” teased John again. Sherlock huffed in irritation before he realized John was joking. Then a teasing smile graced his own lips which he used to peck another kiss onto John's.

“They could never afford me John. I come with very hard to meet standards. The list of requirements is far too long and in my whole life I've only managed to find a single individual who makes the cut.” Sherlock smiled down at John who looked very pleased and somewhat proud. Sherlock loved the happy lines around John's eyes and mouth and vowed to himself to keep making John smile like that, no matter what.

Some sort of appetizer arrived along with their wine. It was beautifully arranged in a precarious stack in the center of a lovely plate. Neither John nor Sherlock recognized the dish so they spent a minute trying to determine what was in it. John used his fingers and drew a fragment into his mouth, “Well. That's probably carrot. This thing here looks like beef maybe. These shredded things taste potato-y.”

“That's not very scientific. Things don't taste _potato-y_ John. Either it tastes like potato or it doesn't.” Sherlock examined the offering before gingerly poking it with a fork. Gamely he managed to scoop some up and ate it curiously. “It's potato.” he reported. John laughed and stabbed at his stack which promptly fell over.

“I didn't expect to have to fight with my meal.” John grumbled as he chased bits of the construct around the plate. He got some on his fork and managed to ferry a bit to his mouth. Sherlock had conquered his neatly and was eating small bites elegantly. “How do you do that all the time? You're like a cat. There's nothing you do that isn't graceful. I'm all thumbs here.”

Sherlock blushed when John complimented him so offhandedly. He wondered if he would ever get used to someone thinking anything positive about him but John never stopped being truly amazed and impressed with Sherlock. He was generous with his compliments and each one was sincere. Each and every time John said something admiring about Sherlock the once lonely man felt warm inside. John thought Sherlock was graceful and catlike when others had only mentioned that Sherlock moved unnaturally and seemed unused to his own body. “Thank you John. Rigorous training since I was a child. I wasn't allowed to embarrass the family name during important functions. My nannies were terrifyingly diligent about instructing me at the table.”

“I can see that. Mycroft certainly looks like he's got a book on protocol stuffed up his bum.” Sherlock coughed out his mouthful of food and both men were giggling hard, dabbing at the mess when the main course arrived. They waved away the rest of their mostly uneaten appetizers and accepted the much more recognizable cuts of meat on their plate. The server made a show of refilling their wine glasses. John wasn't very pleased with the continuation of the warm lingering glances the young man kept directing at Sherlock.

“ _Young man_ , although you are in excellent form with regards to your service I'm afraid I shall not be able to provide you any financial recompense you might be seeking for the sexual services you are offering so blatantly. Despite your laudable need for money due to your desire to continue on with your education prostituting yourself to patrons that are clearly disinterested will only get you into serious trouble. However that being said if you are still determined to follow this course of action _cease and desist_ your efforts here and concentrate yourself to table forty-two. That couple is looking for something special for the holidays. _Go away_.” John smirked at the young man who had straightened up and paled as Sherlock laid into him. The young man quickly gathered up his large service tray, nodded briefly and turned on his heel, instantly charming as he approached the suggested table.

“That was amazing.” marveled John. It was. _It always was! The way Sherlock could pick up the most subtle clue in just a split second? Amazing! Even though the soldier had worked diligently on mastering his personal skills regarding observing Sherlock was almost supernaturally good at it._ “What gave it all away?”

“Apart from the obvious leers, and the shameless bending over, and practically _drooling_ on you? A good percentage of servers in high-end restaurants are pursuing higher education. The service industry is appealing because the work is well paid, requires hours compatible to keep attending classes, and with the bonus of tips there is a lot of unclaimed cash that can be diverted into less _academic_ pursuits. He's wearing a small diamond in his ear and his shoes are of extremely high quality. He smells of expensive products, and his hands were expertly manicured. He's high-maintenance for a reason. In this extremely permissive day and age it would be simple for a young attractive person with no attachments to try and capitalize, literally in this instance, by selling their skills to tourists. Lots of money, no commitments, no fuss and the hotel room is already paid for. I'm sure by the end of the season this young man will have earned more than enough to carry him through the next semester in comfort.” Sherlock shuddered. _It wasn't the business of prostitution that troubled him. It was a timeless profession but Sherlock couldn't bear the idea of so many strange hands or bodies on his. How could anyone do it? In his entire life the only person who didn't make him cringe or feel alien was John. Good, sturdy, dependable, plain, predictable John. John was comfort personified. When Sherlock was with John he was calm, relaxed. John never judged him. John always understood him_. John also was sticking to his food decree, and had actually reached out and quartered Sherlock's steak.

“You're eating all of it.” Sherlock frowned down at his plate. _A whole steak? There had to be eight ounces of cow on that plate. He loved John with all his heart and soul but that was asking a lot_.

Sherlock began to bargain. “A quarter, then _three_ desserts. They're probably heavy in dairy, lots of calories.” John rolled his eyes. It was obvious he wasn't going for it but it was just the first round. John had this strange obsession with _nutrition_ and had many a night argued with Sherlock about treats not being the same as meals.

“Three quarters, part of the cheese tray, and _one_ dessert.” he countered. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. John looked serious but not set yet. _The doctor was going to make Sherlock eat, with his dignity or without it. Still, Sherlock wasn't going down without a fight_.

“ _One_ quarter. _One_ piece of cheese. _Two_ desserts.” _Sherlock had read up on the desserts offered in Italy. He wasn't going to back down. He didn't care what was on the cart. He was picking the two items closest to hand and eating both of them no matter what John said._

“ _Half_. Three pieces of cheese. _One_ dessert.” John was sounding firm now, especially in regard to the quantity of pudding. Sherlock went all in.

“ _No_ pieces. _Four_ desserts. I'm not eating anything else.” He crossed his arms in front of him and stared off into the distance. John chuckled beside him. Sherlock felt John's fingers trail down his arm until he reached Sherlock's fingers. They laced together gently.

“One quarter. No cheese. Two desserts.” _Compromise achieved_. Sherlock looked fondly back at John and both men burst out laughing. Sherlock leaned over and gave John a quick warm kiss before sitting back and eating a quarter of the steak without further protest. John tucked into the rest of his dinner with good humor, getting Sherlock to entertain him by deducing the other guests between bites.

“Cheating on her husband, that one is pregnant and doesn't know it yet, he's got plastic surgery coming up, that one is wearing women's undergarments beneath his suit.” John was giggling softly, unsure whether or not Sherlock was teasing him or telling him the truth. Sherlock began to embellish wildly, explaining how the cut of the suit and the choice of materials hid the otherwise obvious lines of a corset wrapped around the big man's waist. He kept telling John to shush and not to look but that just made the smaller man stare even more. John tried to keep his laughter silent but after a bit they were getting curious looks from everyone else, especially the possibly en-corseted man.

“Stop, stop! I'm going to choke.” John chuckled to himself as Sherlock ate the last bite of his tiny piece of steak. He then threw a fond glance at Sherlock before tending to his own plate once again, “I'm glad you're my best mate. I have fun with you Sherlock. You're hilarious.” Sherlock felt warm all the way down to his toes. _John liked being with Sherlock! He enjoyed it. No one ever enjoyed being around Sherlock. Most people would rather do just about anything else in the world than spend time with Sherlock Holmes. Except John. John was unique_.

Their now _entirely_ professional server came back to whisk away their plates and lay out a cheese tray. He departed and came back a minute later with a tall elegant rolling cart filled with plates of decadent looking desserts. Sherlock reached out, picked up a piece of cheese and ate it without looking at John. John rolled his eyes and leaned back. “Three.” Sherlock grinned and squirmed in his seat. He carefully chose four desserts off the cart, making the server set one in front of John and the rest in front of himself.

Once alone again Sherlock leaned over and gave John a very appreciative kiss. “Enjoy your cake John.” John just shook his head wryly and smiled back at Sherlock who eyed the other three plates with avarice. John very seldom allowed him to do this. _Three!_ He dug in. The first dessert was a delicate cake rich with vanilla and cream. It was fluffy and disappeared almost like mist when Sherlock spooned in one luscious mouthful after another. He gave John the very last bite, having put together a bit of everything the dessert was made of. John winked at him as he accept it.

The next dessert was dark and chocolaty, almost like fudge but with an almond flavor to it. The sounds Sherlock made as he spooned in one bite after another were bordering on indecent. The strange looks had upgraded from curious glances to outright stares from the surrounding tables. Sherlock's dessert was also was drowning in thick warm chocolate sauce. A bit had remained on his lip as Sherlock kissed John hard after he gave him the final bite of that dessert as well. The rich sauce now on John's lips was heaven mixed with the taste of the soldier. Sherlock felt warm and slightly buzzed now.

Sherlock's last dessert was a cream puff. It was large and powdery. The tall graceful man picked it up and bit gently into it, his eyes fluttering shut. Sherlock rumbled out an almost inaudible moan that probably only elephants could hear but that John felt right through his breastbone, shooting straight south to parts not meant to be explored in public. John groaned softly as his eyes fixed on Sherlock's mouth, now covered with a dusting of powdered sugar. The younger man licked his lips slowly clean before licking the creamy filling of the confection. He hadn't noticed John's heated gaze. The sugar rush was beginning to hit. “ _John_.” moaned Sherlock as he finished up the confection with extreme attention to detail, forgetting to give John the last sugary morsel. Sherlock's hips rocked slightly, and he spread his feet wider to brace himself as he shifted in his seat.

“Shit.” exclaimed the doctor. _They were in full view of the restaurant!_ His own dessert forgotten John stood and helped Sherlock up. Sherlock's eyes were already dilated and there was an entirely wicked smile blooming. _They only had a few minutes to get back to the room_. Their server magically appeared and John hastily signed their bill before allowing Sherlock to drag him away. Both men walked quickly across the foyer to the elevator, hands firmly linked.

Sherlock ignored everything, even the strange new woman behind the counter. _He had to get John alone. Now_. Once the elevator doors closed Sherlock tried to pin John to the wall but John fought him back. “Not _here_ Sherlock! Two minutes!” Sherlock growled a bit with frustration and crowded John against the back wall but didn't press his suit any further. John smiled up and Sherlock felt himself getting lost in the wondrous blue of John's eyes. They were already near their floor so Sherlock stood back and saw himself in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown wide. His smile was slightly maniacal. He looked back down at John who just looked hungry all over again. “Soon.” John promised. Sherlock nodded and waited.

The doors barely opened before Sherlock was dragging them out toward their room door. With Sherlock panting in his ear and already nipping at the sensitive lobe the soldier had a hard time concentrating on getting the door open. “You were _magnificent_ today John.” growled Sherlock as he continued to tease and lip at his lover. John unlocked it as fast as he could and it had barely slammed shut behind them before Sherlock had pinned John against it. The kiss he gave his soldier was savage and Sherlock's eyes were wild and almost black with lust. “I'm going to fly apart John!”

“This is why I don't let you have _three desserts_ all at once!” hissed John as Sherlock nipped and bit his way down John's neck. Sherlock had only a few weaknesses and sugar was one of them. Large amounts of sugar made Sherlock lose his tenuous hold on propriety resulting in behavior best suited to small children or angst ridden teens. It was worse than drugs really because Sherlock could get his hands on obscene amounts of sugar absolutely anywhere.

Most of Sherlock's behavioral problems disappeared when John took control of his diet, making Sherlock to promise to minimize his sugar intake whenever John wasn't actively around. The doctor hadn't thought of that when he'd allowed Sherlock the pick of the dessert cart. At 221 B temporarily insane Sherlock's sugar reaction normally meant destruction of the flat but now that he'd discovered _sex_ John realized that he could very well have ended up bent over the dinner table for all to see. The taller man was already grinding his body against John in the most insanely sexy kind of way. His movements were jerky, stuttering and aggressive. John gave in. “Clothes _off_ Sherlock!”

With a growl Sherlock flung himself away and began to claw his clothes off. He stopped for a second and let his head hang back before shivering from head to toe. He looked almost demonic as he resumed undressing. “Sugar rush.” he purred. Stripping away the remainder of his clothes in a flash Sherlock stepped forward to undo John's fly, yanking his trousers down impatiently. John started to topple over so Sherlock slung him over his shoulder, carried a protesting John half-dressed to the bed and dropped him inelegantly onto the covers. Sherlock continued to ignore John's protests as he removed shoes, socks, the trousers finally and then John's pants.

John had never been so aroused. Sherlock was completely feral right now. The last time he'd indulged in too much sugar the flat had nearly been destroyed within minutes, Mrs. Hudson had required two herbal soothers and Mycroft had ended up interfering with Lestrade in tow. This time however Sherlock had entirely different ideas on how to utilize the temporary spike in energy. “Need you John. Now. Right now.” he growled again, his deep baritone voice as uncultured as John had ever heard it. The rumble of it went right to John's cock which was already hard and aching next to Sherlock's.

_Straight to the point then_. The long trip here had whet John's appetite and Sherlock's current state of mind suited him very well indeed. Sherlock was lusty and wanton. John couldn't be happier. John shoved Sherlock roughly back onto the bed, a growl of approval coming from the younger man. John reached over and picked up the closest bottle of lube on the side table and dropped it onto the pillow near Sherlock's head. “Do you even know what you want beautiful? You want me to kiss you all over, bite you hard, fuck you from behind? Suck on those delicious lips and mark you everywhere?” Sherlock's groan dropped nearly a whole octave and his head nodded rapidly.

“John. _Yes_. God yes. _Do it_. All of it.” John straddled Sherlock's narrow hips and leaned forward to lick his way up Sherlock's neck, nibble his way along Sherlock's jaw until he made his way to Sherlock's ear.

“Would you really like that? Or would you like to finger me open, make me hot and slick before you fuck me so hard I can't walk?” Sherlock's arms and legs wrapped around John instantly and Sherlock's whole body bucked and shuddered. Sherlock's breathing was strained and gasping.

“Don't fucking move.” he snarled from beneath John. John froze while Sherlock battled to contain himself. After several minutes Sherlock managed to release his grip on John to relax into the mattress. “ _That_. I want that.” John eased back and looked down. Sherlock had not come as he had thought but it clearly had been quite the struggle. Precum was smeared all over their bellies and Sherlock's cock was dark pink now, hard and throbbing. John's cock pulsed in sympathy. “On your back John.”

John smiled and rolled over easily, spreading his legs invitingly. Sherlock's face was red and hot but the younger man just looked determined as well as aroused. His multi-colored eyes were nearly black again and he was biting his lower lip over and over again as he blinked slowly. At one point Sherlock's head dropped back again and he shivered as another rush from the sugar overload swept through him. “Sherlock.” breathed John, entranced at how completely undone his lover looked. They'd barely started. Sherlock would never last. Mind made up John moved fast and pushed Sherlock back onto the bed.

“John. Wait. _Don't_. I want....stop. I...stop! Oh!” John licked his way over Sherlock's body and without pause simply swallowed him down. Head gliding back and forth easily John smiled to himself as Sherlock's whole body tensed like a bowstring before he came almost immediately down John's throat. The younger man shuddered hard and gasped loudly several times as his hips jerked wildly. John swallowed the salty bitterness without regret. Releasing Sherlock he slowly lay back onto the pillows and smirked. “Why did you do that?” panted Sherlock who sounded both satisfied and petulant.

“Refraction period.” said John smugly and Sherlock snorted weakly, his eyes closing as he struggled to breath again. “By the time I'm ready you will be too.” Sherlock threw his arm over his face and breathed deeply for a few minutes.

“That was deeply unfair of you John. Being aroused was keeping me alert. The sugar wouldn't have lasted for long. I'm so tired now.” Sherlock's breathing was getting slower and John was getting concerned. He was getting the feeling that he hadn't made the smartest move in the world. One minute later he was convinced because he was now listening to Sherlock snore. John's erection was achingly hard and his lover was now passed out cold! _Fuck!_

After a long internal debate about whether to wank or wash John decided to just have a shower. Stalking over to the wash area he stood there for a minute and grouched at the fixtures who were faultless but available for the venting of ire. John twisted the water on angrily and fussed with the shower head setting unnecessarily. Yanking the clear plastic barrier shut he stepped under the cool spray and sulked. That he'd done it to himself felt monumentally unfair, Sherlock wasn't to blame at all. _The younger man had been up for a very long time, they'd had wine with their meal and he_ had _asked John to hold back_. John thumped his head on the stone tile and regretted it. Now his forehead hurt and his erection hadn't subsided much. Sighing John turned off the hot water slowly until he was gasping under the icy spray.

The shower eventually had the effect John had been seeking and he retreated after a good washing up. Toweling himself dry he petulantly climbed into a full set of pajamas before laying down. He got right back up, fetched warm damp flannels and washed Sherlock down carefully before covering the man with a thin sheet. Then John lay on the far side of the bed and eventually pouted himself to sleep.

 


	2. Growing Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have changed between John and Sherlock but in some ways things are exactly the same.

The next morning John found himself being lightly shaken out of a very deep sleep. His arms and legs seemed to be moving one at a time but John was a little too sleep dazed to figure out exactly why. It wasn't until he felt a set of long thin fingers curl behind his neck to lift his torso from the bed did John clue in that Sherlock was undressing him. “What's going on!” he asked thickly. _It had taken him ages to doze off and he was still really tired_.

“Reparation.” said Sherlock who stopped talking. John's pajama bottoms had disappeared and Sherlock had just slid him out of his pajama top. He was now tugging down John's pants and John reached down and hung onto the waistband defiantly. “John let go. You're ruining everything all over again.”

Now John went from being sleepily confused to being completely irritated. “Ruining things? _Me?_ Was I the one who passed out cold mere minutes after getting back and then snored like the London Underground for five hours straight? I'm trying to sleep Sherlock.” _Sherlock hadn't been that loud. His snores more a deep soothing rumble. A big cat purr_. Recalling his own observations about Sherlock's cat like qualities John eyed Sherlock suspiciously. “Are you a were-cat? Why do you purr?”

“What the devil are you talking about John? Are you still asleep? I'm trying to seduce you here and you're not doing it right. Why in the world would you ask me if I'm a were-cat?” John was actually a bit surprised by the question.

“Well, I guess because you sound like you're purring when you sleep, and your eyes are catty, and you're really slinky like a cat. The way you lay on the sofa is very cat-like. You're high-maintenance but you give almost nothing back emotionally, at least you didn't. Actually, answer me again, and this time look me in the eye. _Are you a were-cat?_ ” John stared at Sherlock even more suspiciously and Sherlock looked confused and let go of John's pants which snapped back loudly.

“John were you secretly drugged or something last night? You are acting _very_ odd. I assure you I am fully human. Thank you though for the blows to my self-esteem. I shall enjoy them.” Sherlock pulled away from John, now thoroughly rebuffed and miserable looking. John felt like a heel. Sherlock got off the bed quickly but there was nowhere for him to gather his bruised dignity together. The room was totally open. Both men groaned as they realized the purpose of the design. “Fucking Mycroft!” They'd have to either leave the room and ignore their problems or deal with them and move along.

Sherlock opted to continue moving away from the bed and to not look at John. John caved instantly. “Sherlock come back here. I'm grumpy because I'm frustrated. I had a terrible night's sleep and nothing is your fault. Come here. Let's try this again.” John sounded penitent.

“No. You just _pity_ me and you're too kind to just break it off with me the way you clearly want to. Just admit it John, and we can go home and end this farce.” The tiny note of hurt in the younger man's voice lanced right through John's tender heart. Sherlock was standing near the balcony, his naked back resolutely turned to John, his shoulders squared and tense. John felt worse than ever. _He had hurt Sherlock's newly exposed feelings._ John climbed right out of bed and went to Sherlock, turning him around to face him. Even naked Sherlock managed to look distant and cold.

Gently he cajoled his lover, “None of that now, it doesn't work on me anymore. I'm sorry I was so grouchy but I certainly don't want to break it off with you. I was miserable because of how much I'd been looking forward to last night and you are absolutely right. _I_ ruined the whole evening. It's not your fault, really it isn't. I love you Sherlock and I wanted you so much last night. I still do, if you'd even consider having me.” Sherlock wouldn't bend his head or unfold his arms so John just stepped closer and began dotting little kisses along his forearms and then his chest. “Don't be mad Sherlock or stay mad, I don't care. Either way works for me. You're gorgeous when you're angry. Still, I wish you didn't lose faith in me so easily. I love you. I would never leave you, not for anything.”

Sherlock's eyes flickered down reluctantly. John gazed up at the troubled young man and let Sherlock read him. John thought of how lucky he was and how beautiful Sherlock looked first thing in the morning. Sherlock almost relented but stiffened again and said, “What about all the _cat_ remarks.”

John didn't hesitate, “You are without a doubt the sexiest most _exotic_ person on this planet. A cat wishes it had the grace or beauty you have. I have no idea what it is you see in me Sherlock but please, don't end this just because of one rough moment.”

“You still actually think I'm beautiful?” _There he was. Vain needy uncertain Sherlock_. John pulled Sherlock's arms open and folded himself against the taller man. _It hurt John when he realized anew how delicate Sherlock's feelings really were. Love was a powerful emotion and most people spent their entire lives learning to deal with all its degrees. Sherlock never had. Now to be caught up in an all or nothing romance with John he was bound to be even more delicate due to his inexperience. The only other person to get close to Sherlock had set in motion the very insecurities which plagued him even now_.

John was eager to sing Sherlock's praises, “So beautiful, especially now. Your hair is wild and your eyes are so bright. Your cheeks are flushed because you were mad but at the same time you're pale because you're afraid this is a dream. It's not. I'm here Sherlock. _I love you_. I _want_ to be with you. I just want _you_ Sherlock, exactly as you are. You're too perfect.” Sherlock almost bent his head. He was very touched but he couldn't just let John win with sweet words, even words that made the strange younger man flutter inside.

“Why did you say all the other things, the were-cat things?” Sherlock glared down at John. _He wasn't letting this go. Those were uncalled for remarks. John knew very well that Sherlock already thought he looked odd. Making comparisons between Sherlock and a cat! Well, maybe it was a bit appropriate but still!_ John chuckled, a little embarrassed now.

“Okay, I was mostly asleep at that point and it made sense at the time. Forgive me okay? Anyway how cool would that be, I mean, if you _were_ a were-cat. What kind of fantastic things could you do? You'd tell me if you really were one though, right?” John was smiling up at Sherlock who finally smiled softly back. John's face was filled with earnest questioning.

“Of course I would tell you John. I don't want to hide things from you. I'm not though. Now that you've brought it up I sort of wish I were. Imagine all the hidden places I could reach if I were a big cat! Cats are actually amazing survivors and they have four different types of hairs on their bodies.” Sherlock was smiling openly now so John stretched up a bit and Sherlock bent his head and they met in a long sweet kiss. “Good morning John.”

“Good morning Sherlock.” He kissed his lover one more time. Sherlock gave a shuddering sigh and wrapped his arms tight around John, holding his soldier close. Sherlock tucked John's head under his chin and rested there while John pressed his cheek to Sherlock. They held each other tight and took comfort in one another. “It's already been a long day and we haven't even been up for half an hour.

“We could try going back to bed and starting all over again.” suggested Sherlock reasonably. His hand was stroking up and down John's back. Sherlock could feel the bumps and ripples from John's spine overlaid with scars from various sources. Sherlock wanted to learn the story behind each and every one. _His John was a brave man, Sherlock was certain each scar was due to John's willingness to sacrifice himself for others or some other noble act_. Sherlock kissed the top of John's head, more grateful than ever that his wonderful, loving, heroic doctor was here in his arms.

“That's a fine idea Sherlock. Let's do that.” Before John could protest Sherlock had scooped him up and was carrying him bridal-style back to the bed. John struggled but Sherlock's long arms merely tightened, holding the smaller man easily. Sherlock may have been lean but he didn't lack for strength. He was carrying John effortlessly. “Sherlock, put me down!”

“No. You're my special little lady right now so I get to carry you.” John tried not to laugh but he couldn't stop himself. He thumped Sherlock on the shoulder then settled in sheepishly. Sherlock's long legs got them back to the bed quickly and he lay John down tenderly. “I do love you John Watson and I do want you. I don't know what you see in me either but what I see in you is a strong man, a good friend, and a damn good shag.” He swooped in and kissed John's laughing lips, both men grinning and chuckling as they rolled around the bed. They playfully wrestled around as they kissed and caressed one another. Relaxed and at ease they steadily moved closer together until the playfulness ended and true passion took its place.

Sherlock sighed and moaned as John worshiped him. The doctor traversed Sherlock's entire body ardently, whispering small compliments as well as his own accompanying moans _. Sherlock couldn't help but latch on to every word. John was a poet as he remarked on what he viewed as many of Sherlock's perfections._ _The taller man was amazed at what John found attractive. The paleness of his colorless skin. The straight lines of his too skinny body. John even liked the fact that Sherlock had practically no body hair! Sherlock's arms, which he'd always thought to be twiggy and awkward, made the smaller man shiver with desire when Sherlock wrapped them around him. Knowledge that he had the power to make John weak with want by such a simple act made Sherlock feel better about himself. It was a heady experience as John did what he did and healed Sherlock_. Eventually John worked his way back to Sherlock's mouth, his sturdy body draped over the slim form of his lover. “Sherlock I want you to have me, do you want that?”

Sherlock kissed John hard, his breath catching roughly, “John. You'd let me? You trust me enough to...” he trailed off looking vulnerable and almost overwhelmed. _This was jumping far ahead of the steps laid out on his sex-chart. “Penetrative Sex with John – Topping” was more than three quarters of the way down the list, preceded by items like frottage, memorizing the texture of John's skin, or oral sex. They were actually all the way to the bottom, having skipped all the beginning. Sherlock realized he hadn't shown John the list yet, and that John probably didn't care about the list. John did things in his own time_. Surrendering to John's greater experience Sherlock discarded the list in his mind and smiled softly up at his lover. John kissed him tenderly at first then allowed his kiss to heat until they were both writhing against one another.

“You and nobody else Sherlock. Only you ever. I trust you more than any other person in the whole wide world.” Sherlock once again looked so entirely young, so unsure of himself. _He was so delicate when it came to his feelings, his trust of those closest to him was fragile. John never wanted Sherlock to feel uncomfortable around him_. “Take all the time you need Sherlock.”

That relaxed the inquisitive young man. He smiled down at John now and rolled them both over so John was beneath him. John's body was a wonder of masculinity. He smelled musky and wild. The muscles beneath his kitten soft skin were rocky. Sherlock knew only too well how strong John was. “I want to taste you.” said Sherlock simply and did exactly that. He licked and mouthed his way down John's body. Sherlock teased and played with the hairs on John's chest, making the smaller man laugh softly until Sherlock followed his treasure trail right to his very hard cock. Giving it a far too cursory lick and kiss Sherlock nudged John's legs up and open, pushing a pillow beneath John's hips to keep him in place. Moving smoothly and without haste Sherlock continued to lick and mouth his way over John's ass and inner thighs, working his way inward. Pausing for only a second to simply look Sherlock before leaning forward and running a curious tongue boldly over John.

Sherlock gave himself over entirely to his curiosity at this point. He had been dreaming of doing exactly this to John for ages now, even before the list. John's body had captured Sherlock's attention right from the start. Sherlock was of course a master of human anatomy but this wasn't some anonymous body. This was John. _Warm, living, delectable, delicious, tantalizing John_. Sherlock allowed himself to explore and catalog everything he was doing to John, noting everything automatically before filing it away in his mind palace. He was diligent and thorough with his explorations and enjoyed the thrill of discovery nearly as much as he enjoyed observing John's reactions to his stimulations.

John was falling to pieces. He hadn't uttered a word but had simply begun to moan and sigh softly as Sherlock's tongue boldly prepared him. The smaller man was heavily flushed, spread wide open, his chest heaving as he panted. Sherlock was struck at the level of trust John had placed in him to allow such intimacy, such vulnerability. A surge of love washed through Sherlock and he shifted quickly to kiss John's mouth ardently. Neither man commented about where Sherlock's mouth had just been, they simply melted together, arms and legs entwined as they lost themselves together. “I love you so much John. Thank you for this.”

John kissed Sherlock tenderly now, pecking back and forth across the ripe swell of Sherlock's lips. Sherlock deserved to be loved, deserved to know what it was like to be loved in return. John felt a surge of devotion toward his lover, “You're the only man I'd ever consider doing this with Sherlock, I want you to have me, as much as I've got to give. I want to be your only lover, the only one who gives you everything you need.”

“You'll always be just enough for me John.” Kissing John's smile one more time Sherlock knelt back to picked up the small bottle of lube. “You left the condoms in the basket.” noted Sherlock out loud.

“Little late to be worried about that Sherlock. We weren't careful the first time.” Sherlock shrugged. John chuckled and shook his head. “I know I'm clean. The clinic, we have regular mandatory tests. I know you're clean. Mycroft forces you to get tested all the time and I'm the only person you can stand to touch you so I doubt you've got any surprises for me that way.”

Sherlock smiled softly and warmed the lube on his hands before smoothing a generous amount on his fingers. Leaning forward he began to kiss John again as he allowed his hand to creep slowly between John's wide-spread thighs. When Sherlock began to press and swirl gently John huffed out a small surprised breath. Sherlock began to sooth him, dotting little sweet kisses over John's eyes and cheeks but continuing to press and swirl gently until he was able to insert his finger to the first knuckle.

John breathe deeply and exhaled through his nose. Sherlock recognized John's distress instantly and retreated gingerly, returning to the less invasive swirling of his fingers. Sherlock knew John wanted to do this but a lifetime of _not_ doing it was hard to overcome. John suddenly relaxed a bit and flushed heavily, embarrassed by his reaction. “Sorry. It was just overwhelming for a moment.” Sherlock nodded. He didn't say anything, opting instead to continue comforting and distracting John in other ways.

Sherlock began to explore John's responses to Sherlock's hands. Gradually he figured out a combination of kisses and touches that relaxed the doctor enough to allow Sherlock to penetrate him gently. When the first finger was finally sliding in and out with ease John relaxed entirely and gave himself up to the sensation. Sherlock suppressed a sigh of relief. He had been getting anxious, certain he was doing it right but unsure on how to sooth John reluctant body. Now that initial awkwardness was overcome though John went full speed ahead. He encouraged Sherlock to add a second finger, moaning and thrusting his hips into Sherlock's hand. Their kisses grew heated and soon John was nipping at Sherlock's lips, running his talented fingers over Sherlock's shoulders and neck.

Sherlock was moaning anxiously now. _He wasn't accustomed to dealing with the bone melting level of sheer lust he was experiencing. How did anyone channel or resist it? His brain was flooded with hormones and his body wanted nothing more than to bury itself in the perfection that was John's flesh. Sherlock wanted to do this right. He wanted to take John apart slowly, properly but it was all so new, so intense_. “John. I want. Can I...” Sherlock tried to get his mouth and brain to work together again but they weren't having it. He looked imploringly at John who nodded.

“Do it. Please. Fuck, I can't wait anymore.” Sherlock knelt back on his heels, fumbling for the bottle of lube with one hand while reluctantly retracting his other hand from John. He'd enjoyed the process when John had done it to him, and now Sherlock had very much enjoyed preparing his lover to receive him. Carefully Sherlock smoothed copious amounts of lube on, rationalizing that more was probably better than less in this instance.

Sherlock was suddenly worried about hurting John who suddenly seemed so _small_ , so _trusting_. Sherlock was rather large in comparison. _This couldn't help but hurt John_. Sherlock didn't realize his brows had knitted together until John reached up to smooth a thumb over it. “It's okay Sherlock. We can do this. It's okay. Go ahead.” Sherlock inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly through his nose the way he'd seen John do. He felt himself relax a bit, and then he nodded. _They could do this_.

Lining himself up carefully Sherlock leaned forward and braced himself on one long-fingered hand. He kissed John tenderly, his forehead pressed to John's. “I love you John.” he whispered softly and then he let his hips push forward. John's eyes flew wide open and another anxious huff of air was released. Regardless John's hands flew to Sherlock's hips and urged them to continue their inward journey.

Sherlock paused. The tip of his penis had barely entered but it was already _extremely_ pleasurable. John's body was tight, tighter than Sherlock had expected. Resuming, Sherlock pressed with greater firmness, and both men groaned as the head of Sherlock's cock almost popped past the first ring of muscle. The grip of John's flesh on Sherlock's was dizzying and so arousing. Sherlock was desperate to just shove the rest of the way in and fuck both of them into oblivion but he couldn't. Utilizing every scrap of self-discipline he had ever attained Sherlock kept his thrusts shallow, allowing the long length of his cock to bury itself inside John in small increments. When he was at long last fully seated Sherlock dared to look at John's face again.

A tear had dripped away from John's left eye. Sherlock kissed the trail of it. He kissed the slightly pained furrow between John's brows, the still-closed lids of John's eyes, the reddish flush of John's cheeks, and then Sherlock kissed the firm sweet mouth of the man he loved. John's entire body relaxed and his arms snaked around Sherlock's neck to keep their mouths together. Sherlock allowed his hips to draw back fully and then he sank slowly back into John in one deliberate move. John's breathe stuttered. Pausing for a long moment Sherlock collected his self-control once more before pulling back slowly then sinking deeply into John's fantastically warm body. John's back arched and his moan was low and appreciative. Sherlock smiled and kissed John's now exposed neck as he drew his hips back again and sank himself into John once more.

Sherlock lost himself to the rhythm of it. He let his body dictate the speed and fury of his passions. He was pressed tight to John and could feel every quickened breath, every exclamation of pain or pleasure. When John's body began to ask for more Sherlock's body responded. John and Sherlock clung to one another, their hips driving toward the other. The sensations were building rapidly, Sherlock could not prevent the heat pooling inside him. John was heaving his breaths in short little gasps, his eyes squeezed shut and his eyebrows high up like he was surprised. “Sherlock. I'm. _So_. Close.”

A deep groan ripped its way from Sherlock's throat. _He was making John feel so good he was ready to orgasm_. That knowledge was enough to tip Sherlock right over the edge and with a loud cry he began to drive himself deep and fast inside John. He couldn't stop himself but John shouted affirmations in a garbled litany. When John's fingers dug hard into Sherlock's hips Sherlock's eyes rolled back into his head and he reached his peak. This was nothing like his previous orgasms with John. This started at his toes and raced through every single part of Sherlock and stripped away every rational thought until he was simply a vast pulsing sensation caught at the height of voluptuous pleasure. The scent of John and the cries from his dear lips shivered through Sherlock's scattered consciousness, melding irrevocably into a memory of utter perfection. Sherlock's hips snapped as he delivered the physical evidence of his ardor deep within the willing body of his lover.

Sherlock's arm gave out abruptly. He tried not to lay full on John. John just slid his hand weakly from Sherlock's hips to his lower back and held Sherlock tight to him, breathing heavily beneath him. Giving up the taller man draped himself all over his doctor. Sherlock was entirely off-line now, boneless and unmoving, still buried deep inside John and was perfectly content to stay that way forever.

John was entirely satisfied even though his behind stung and burned a bit and Sherlock's bony shoulder was kind of digging into his chin. He wouldn't change a thing. _Well maybe next time he'd get Sherlock to prepare him a little longer and maybe add another finger_. The detective was a bit larger under the belt than John had really realized. Of course John had no experience translating information he'd gotten from his hand and mouth to explain to his backside. Still, even with the frankly shocking amount of pain it had ended in the most agonizingly exquisite orgasm John had ever experienced. Having Sherlock lodged tight inside of him had made John's orgasm so much more intense. Despite the initial discomfort John could see himself becoming very used to letting Sherlock have him like this. John exhaled contentedly, “I love you Sherlock. That was amazing.”

Sherlock chuckled softly, and withdrew carefully. He kissed John tenderly but got off the bed shakily and staggered to the wash area. He had intended to bring back a flannel but instead was surprised to find that John had followed him. “Shower.” was all the diminutive man said as he twisted it on. Sherlock smiled and together they stepped under the warm inviting spray.

At first they just took advantage of the hotel's endless water supply, leaning against one another as they recuperated. Then Sherlock uncapped some of the very high end products waiting for use. Deciding its scent was tolerable Sherlock shampooed John's hair before he then used expensive body wash to clean his lover from head to toe. John's straight-blade was on the sink so Sherlock took it and the shaving foam so he could shave John's face clean. John didn't balk or protest as Sherlock to the razor sharp implement to his throat, delicately scraping away faint stubble until he'd worked his way everywhere and John was smooth.

John conspicuously folded a towel and dropped it on the stony floor. Sherlock rolled his eyes but knelt on the now sodden pad. Grinning at one another John now took his time washing Sherlock's hair for him and following through with a perfectly executed shave. “The hands of a surgeon.” said Sherlock simply as he ran sensitive fingertips over his face, finding nothing left behind of his morning beard. Sherlock stood again and allowed John to use the body wash to clean him everywhere else. John pinched Sherlock's bum when he finished, making Sherlock start out of his delightful haze. “John!”

“Sorry.” said John insincerely. The shorter man reached out to turn the taps off and grab two dry towels. He handed Sherlock one and they began to dry one another off. John pinched Sherlock's bum again. “Sorry.”

“No you're _not_.” huffed Sherlock. He wasn't exactly unhappy about it. It was just a bit of a surprise that John kept wanting to touch him. John's hand was suddenly spread over one lusciously curved cheek.

“No I'm not. I've got an award winning arse within reach. You're going to cover it up soon so I have to take advantage while I have the opportunity.” Now John boldly caressed Sherlock's ass with his hand while he looked directly into Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock blushed crimson and bit his lip. John grinned wickedly. “Oh my god. _Look at that blush_. I'm going to remember this. The next time you need to settle down I'm going to grab two big handfuls of this plush ar....” Sherlock kissed John silent. John grinned into it and still pulled Sherlock closer, splaying both hands over one generous cheek each.

“Not in public John. Please.” begged Sherlock. John winked up at him and gave Sherlock a quick kiss. It wasn't that Sherlock was ashamed of having John show his appreciation. It was that Sherlock felt their romance was a private matter, beyond the understanding of other people. He didn't want to share that with anyone but John.

“I'd never really do that in public. People will get ideas, think they have a shot at touching this. Not going to happen Sherlock. You're mine.” Sherlock blushed again, this time a sweet pink tinge that made his cheeks glow. He was shyly pleased about being so firmly claimed. He was still so startled that John was not only willing to put up with living with the hard-to-deal with young scientist but that John actually _deliberately_ and _on purpose_ entered an _exclusive_ romantic relationship with Sherlock.

“Let's get dressed and go to breakfast before it's time for lunch.” They hadn't had tea or coffee or anything. John was suddenly acutely aware of how little of his dinner he had eaten. Sherlock kissed John and they went to dress.

They argued back and forth. Sherlock wanted to wear his suit and coat. John wanted him to relax and wear something casual for once. Sherlock countered with the idea of going out for the day, two well-dressed men would look sharp together. John complained that he'd be uncomfortable and Sherlock would be overheated in a suit, it being fifteen degrees warmer than they were accustomed to. Sherlock couldn't really argue that point so with ill-grace he got into slacks, a button down shirt, and a very light jacket. John was wearing his awful trousers but had forgone his normal jumper/shirt combo for just a shirt and his own thin jacket. He looked adorable like always, well-worn, and comforting. John stared at Sherlock. “Why do you always look ready for the catwalk, and I always look like someone's mum?”

Sherlock laughed. “Again with the cat remarks! You don't look like someone's _mum_ John. You look perfect. This is your everyday _'I'm harmless_ ' disguise, my favorite. We're in a new city. No one else knows how dangerous you are. It's delicious.” Sherlock admired the various aspects of John. Simple military haircut. Clean dependable looking face. Capable hands. Solid colors for his clothing choices. Good sturdy shoes, made for walking.

On first glance no one would notice how John's eyes swept an area automatically, checking for danger. They'd be distracted by his warm smile. No one ever saw how John always placed himself slightly behind and to the side of Sherlock when they were in tense situations so John could dart behind or in front of the taller man as necessary, usually beating the crap out of whomever had threatened his friend.

_Almost no one saw the steadiness of John's hand and arm despite his wounded shoulder. Only a rare few had ever seen John's eyes go flat and cold when he decided that shooting was the best option after all. Once that decision was made John had no moral scruples about making someone scream or just die. While John had joined the army to become a doctor he had deliberately sought out any training he could find time for, the members of his various units teaching him to fight, to shoot, to do anything he wanted because he was a doctor and having a doctor as your friend on the battlefield was just good sense_. Sherlock got flustered and excited all over again when he thought of those clever murderous hands exploring his body. He would _never_ be bored with John.

“I mean you look like a super-model no matter what you wear and even if I were wearing the most expensive suit on the planet I'd still look like a garden gnome.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and glared down at John.

“I have no idea what you are talking about! You're much taller than a garden gnome. You're the perfect height. You fall _exactly_ within the national average. You look gorgeous. Now stop fishing for compliments, I'm actually hungry this morning.” John rolled his eyes back at Sherlock, stopped fussing with his clothes, and pocketed his wallet. John's was equipped with his own brand new _consequence free_ credit card instead of Mycroft's stolen one. Sherlock's wallet was also stuffed with Euros. Taking John's arm Sherlock led him out of their room and into the hallway.

Yet another woman was working behind the counter. Sherlock couldn't help but note that she like all the others practically dragged her eyes up and down John's body. Sherlock stepped neatly between them, blocking her view while guiding John away. They were given the same table in the dining room and Sherlock realized it must come with the room. Their booth was by far the most elaborate. It was set in the center of everything but still shrouded with the elegant curtains and lush decorations so that very few people could see what John and Sherlock were doing.

Their morning server was a different young man. He was shorter, stockier, had tinted red hair and bright blue eyes. He batted them at Sherlock coyly as he took their order but also smiled warmly at John as if to show he was just a friendly person. He took their orders without being overly brazen but managed to communicate his return of any possible interest either man might have concerning his availability. “Just breakfast.” snarled John. His eyes were snapping as he glared at the server's retreating back. “What is it with this place? Is it just me or is the wait staff somewhat brazen?”

“It's not just you John. The people at reception have been looking you over in turn since we got here. I can't even imagine how bold they'd be if we weren't by each other's side every second. It's almost curious.” Sherlock began looking around carefully for the first time, noting the quantity of obvious couples vs people who merely out for a weekend of pleasure. John smacked him on the hand.

“Stop deducing. This is our vacation. Keep that up and we're going to end up on a case, half dead or possibly both.” Sherlock tore his eyes away and tried to keep from doing the math in his head. It was impossible. John rolled his eyes at Sherlock. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“Of the twelve observable couples having breakfast fully three quarters of them are in widely open relationships, two on the verge of break-up but trying to reconcile and one couple celebrating another anniversary of wedding bliss. The décor suggests a very open and relaxed attitude towards grouping, and the layout of our room, as well as the furnishings, again heavily suggests that sex is on the table for all comers. _Where is my mobile?_ ” Sherlock looked furious. He patted himself down before John reached into his pocket and extracted his phone for him. Sherlock stabbed a number in. “Mycroft, you fat arse! _Why did you send us here?_ ”

John heard laughter at the other end before a short murmured conversation was cut off by Sherlock terminating the call. “This is a _swinger's hotel_. Mycroft's idea of a joke. Take your pick John. Everyone here is willing to go to bed with you, guests and staff alike. There's certainly enough space in our orgy room.” _Sherlock was furious and appalled. How could Mycroft do this to him! How had Sherlock missed all the oh-so-obvious signs before this moment? He knew why. Sherlock was so love dazed by John's attentions he hadn't paid attention to much. Instead he had focused on the startling experience of feeling desired by someone. This hotel wasn't the romantic getaway he had envisioned_. Now he felt that cold anxious feeling of being judged by others. _People in the restaurant were looking at them now, or rather, they were looking at John and not Sherlock. It was bad enough that only John had ever wanted Sherlock but for Mycroft to send him someplace where Sherlock would have to not only witness again and again how undesirable he was but to be forced to watch person after person hit on John? John could have any of them. They all wanted John. Who wouldn't?_ “Excuse me.” Sherlock said brokenly and left the table.

Sherlock kept his eyes down as he strode away. He refused to look at the smug face of the woman behind the reception desk. She was wearing a jeweled letter _A_ like the woman who had checked them in. _Likely a plant of Mycroft's. How humiliating_. Stabbing the elevator button savagely Sherlock wished he could be anywhere but there right that instant. It wasn't until the doors slid open that he saw via the many mirrors a stiff-lipped John standing right behind him. John dragged Sherlock inside the cubicle and hit the key to their floor. Both men rode in silence. When they got back to their room John slammed the door.

“Pack your bags Sherlock.” Sherlock's heart just broke. _John was just kicking him out! In Italy! On their vacation!_ John marched over to the bed and ripped Sherlock's suitcase out of the wardrobe. The shorter stocky man began stuffing everything into it, and Sherlock reeled from the pain of rejection. John didn't even look up when he demanded, “Grab my suitcase.”

“Why?” asked Sherlock blankly. _He had enough money in his wallet to get him back to London. Maybe he could find someplace new to live, someplace close to Baker Street. He couldn't ask John to give up the flat_. Sherlock walked slowly over to the wardrobe and pulled out John's suitcase, setting it beside his on the bed.

“What do you mean _why?_ We're not staying here! Let's go Sherlock. Mycroft is an _asshole_. We'll find our own hotel somewhere else.” _John wasn't kicking him out? He was leaving with Sherlock?_ Suddenly Sherlock felt the need to sit down. “Sherlock? Are you okay? Come here darling, here, let me move this.”

John had just called Sherlock _darling_ and was moving his partially filled suitcase away so Sherlock could sag down. Sherlock sank to the edge of the bed and just sat there looking lost, feeling like possibly crying wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. John stood right in front of him, examining Sherlock closer. Suddenly John pushed in tight and kissed Sherlock firmly. “Silly man. Did you seriously think I'd be interested in a setup like this? That I am so base that I'd simply toss you out so I could have sex with a hotel full of random strangers?”

Sherlock shrugged weakly. “Isn't that every man's dream? To have his pick and the opportunity to indulge himself?” Sherlock wouldn't look directly at John. John grew serious, very unhappy with Mycroft's endless games and blows to his brother's self-esteem. _Had he always done this to his only brother? Given him gifts with traps built right in? No wonder Sherlock didn't want to get to know people. How many times had his trust been betrayed so Mycroft could have another little laugh?_ Suddenly seeing within his lover a small child, a young boy and an inexperienced man all rolled together in a package held together with slings and arrows John was furious all over again, this time solely on Sherlock's behalf.

“Sherlock, I would _never_ choose anyone before you. You are my first choice in all things, even before myself. I love _you_. I only want _you_. The second we get within reach I am breaking Mycroft's fucking nose.” John pulled his lover in for a rough hug, kissing the top of Sherlock's head. He held his slim body tight until those long arms crept around and began to hold John in return. “There's my darling. I love you Sherlock. I wouldn't chose anyone else, not even if they paraded the entire hotel through here naked. I'm not that kind of person. If you trust nobody else in the world you can always trust me. I'll never betray you willingly.” John wanted to make unbreakable promises but he was a realist. With a world that produced the Moriarties and Adlers of the world you couldn't be sure that you wouldn't be forced into a situation where you'd become compromised.

Sherlock felt silly now and a little ashamed of his opinion of John _. Of course John wouldn't just throw him out and go off to be with all these strangers_. John kissed Sherlock lovingly and made him raise his chin so he could look the younger man in the eye. John smiled warmly at Sherlock until it was returned. With another kiss John stood back and tugged the taller man's hands until Sherlock stood up. “Come on love. Let's get the fuck out of here.”

Feeling renewed now that his love was secure Sherlock nodded grimly and began to swiftly pack John's bag. They were zipping everything closed when Greg's ring tone chimed on John's mobile. “Greg? What's wrong!” asked John immediately. Sherlock watched every expression shift effortlessly. John's face was the _opposite_ of a poker face. Every single thought or emotion he had flickered right across it. His brows knitted, then smoothed, knitted again, and then John looked puzzled, then mad, then amused. All of this happened in just seconds. “Right. Good. Text the address okay?”

“What happened? Do we need to go to the Riviera?” Sherlock was angry with his brother but if something happened he was prepared to leave their vacation and go to Mycroft. John shook his head.

“Greg just found out. He's been yelling at Mycroft this whole time. He threatened to return to England and leave Mycroft behind for playing such a rotten prank on you. Mycroft is making it up to us by paying for a whole fresh, _entirely normal_ hotel. A car will be waiting out front for us in just a few minutes. Greg told Mycroft to grow up and to quit tormenting you. I'm still going to punch Mycroft in the nose the next time he sees us. He can't keep pulling shit like this on us again and again.”

“You technically work for him now. It would probably get you into a lot of trouble with the British government. I'll have to do it!” declared Sherlock firmly. He'd be happy to break Mycroft's nose. It was pleasant learning that Greg was supportive of Sherlock and had sided with him instead of Mycroft. John looked around the room to see if they missed anything. The only thing left was the giant sex basket. Both of them looked at it and then each other. “John what do we do with the _50 Shades Starter Kit_?”

“Why did you read those books anyway? That case barely had anything to do with bondage. I don't know what to do with this basket. It would be pretty weird to just leave it here.” Sherlock glanced down at John before shrugging.

“That book series inspired at least four different kidnappings in London alone, obvious ones though, none of them even a four. I solved all of them over the phone.” Sherlock was rummaging through the basket now. “If we shift our clothes to one bag we can fit this in the other empty case. Flying it all home will be a bit odd. It's up to you though.” Sherlock was now examining an assortment of oddly small harnesses. When John realized what they were he flamed right up.

“What are we going to do with a basket of cock-rings and ball-gags Sherlock?” he asked querulously. Sherlock dropped the harness back into the basket, looked over his shoulder to John before smiling wickedly.

“Well I am _a scientist_ John. I imagine we'll have a lot of _fieldwork_ to do. Chop chop. Unpack one of the bags.” Sherlock turned back to pick up the large basket while John blushed but did as he was asked. He tried to ignore how excited he was to experiment with the toys. He'd had one or two girlfriends in the past who had shyly produced tame assortments of bed toys but _this_ was some kind of salute to naughty inventiveness. That Sherlock was actually interested was too much to think about so John resolutely forced himself to remain practical.

Sherlock had folded all of John's clothes neatly so John repacked into his suitcase, this time taking care to reload Sherlock's things in a less frantic manner. Sherlock glanced at the suitcase John was emptying. “You were angry for me.” he stated softly.

“I was. I don't like knowing people toy with you. That was a low trick your brother played. This wasn't just another little ha ha he can shrug off. This was not just _you and him_ anymore and I don't think Mycroft realizes that fully.” John was looking sternly at Sherlock.

The detective looked down at John, puzzled for only a second. “It's _us_ now, not just _me_.” said Sherlock softly. John smiled up at him and nodded.

“That's right Sherlock. It's _us_ he's fucking with. This isn't like before when I had no right to step in and stop him in his tracks. This is a whole different game, and like it or not, even Mycroft will have to learn the rules.” _Captain John_ was fierce, implacable and ready to do damage at a moment’s notice. Sherlock shivered and felt his knees grow weak all over again. This time he gave into his impulse and kissed John heatedly. “Come on love. Off to the new place.”

John zipped Sherlock's bag shut firmly and didn't comment as they neatly packed away the startling assortment of sex toys in Sherlock's vacated suitcase. They piled the assorted boxes of condoms and lubes on top and zipped the bag closed at long last. “Did Mycroft seriously think we would willingly invite groups of people to copulate with us?” mused Sherlock as he considered the quantity of condoms provided.

John shrugged. “Maybe that's his fantasy but it's not mine. I've never thought the group thing was a great idea. It's too impersonal. Even during a one-off I like to be able to focus on my partner, and even if I _was_ single I couldn't really enjoy switching from person to person so quickly.”

“Good thing you're _not_ single then.” said Sherlock wryly as he looked down at the spiky hair on John's head. The shining silver hairs caught the light. Sherlock wanted to count them. John elbowed him gently.

“Yes. It's a good thing.” Sherlock warmed up a little more inside as John clearly declared their continued couple-hood. Now that they had finally begun dating Sherlock wanted to make sure they never stopped. _John was too important. If John had really seriously been interested in a group dynamic Sherlock might have been able to eventually allow himself to watch but not participate. Maybe. Well no. Actually absolutely no. Someone else touching John intimately? Making him sigh? Kissing him! This could never happen! Sherlock had given himself to John and John had given himself back in exchange. John was Sherlock's and nobody else's! How dare they even_ try _to get their greedy hands on his John? This would never do. No. This wouldn't do at all. John was clearly too available looking. Sherlock knew one sure fire visual cue than no one could possibly misunderstand_.

“John, you have to marry me!” demanded Sherlock. He glared down at John, completely outraged at the idea of other people thinking they somehow had the right to touch his John! _Unacceptable!_ “We can find someone in the city. Today. Mycroft must know someone. Come on John, the sooner we do this the better.”

John was more than a little surprised. He stood there, his mouth hanging open for a moment before it snapped shut. John blinked rapidly while Sherlock made his demands and then he frowned. “Sherlock! That was the _worst_ proposal in the history of marriage. If you're serious about wanting to get married I would have hoped for a little more effort on your part. That's it. No more sugar for you. Of any sort.”

John clipped their suitcases together after double-checking to make sure they'd packed up everything they could. _Soldier John_ stormed towards the door, looking vexed. Sherlock stood there and stewed angrily. _John was supposed to say yes! He always agreed to Sherlock's requests. Always. Why wasn't he saying yes? Did he want strangers to think he was single? Sherlock wasn't going to take no for an answer and he wouldn't rest until his ring was visibly on John Watson's finger!_ “Fine.” he hissed, “If you won't agree to marry me then I'll just have to make my point some other way.”

Sherlock strode after John who had just reached the door. With a muffled cry John found himself spun about then pinned firmly to the surface of it, Sherlock's lips suctioned tight to the top of John's neck. A sharp twang of pain quickly announced Sherlock's purpose and John began to struggle. “Get off me you big vampire! What the fuck Sherlock!” Sherlock just lifted John up, sliding him up the door and shoving his knee between John's legs for John to straddle. He kept his mouth in place even though John landed some pretty good thumps to Sherlock's shoulders and sides, making the thinner man grunt but otherwise having no other effect. Sherlock pinned John's wrists finally and kept sucking. John shouted and tried to kick Sherlock in desperation, “Jesus Christ Sherlock _you're going to take my fucking head off!_ Stop already!”

Sherlock finally detached, examining the love bite closely before allowing a now furious John go. That proved to be a mistake because John immediately punched Sherlock in the chin. The taller man went down bonelessly. “You are an utter twat Sherlock Holmes! _I love you god damn it!_ I'm not fucking leaving you, and I'm not interested in having sex with anyone else but you! Quit being a gigantic man child, and pull your shit together. Get up!”

Sherlock shook his head to clear it. _John was shouting at him_. Every word slammed into Sherlock's brain with shocking force. Suddenly he felt ashamed of his behavior once more. _He was worse than an animal. He'd reacted poorly to a perceived threat and now John was yelling at him_. Tears welled up and Sherlock sat on the floor, disconsolate. _He didn't deserve John_. Sherlock hung his head, one hand on his aching jaw, the other prodding his now sore ribs, and felt sorry for himself.

John face the door, sighed and took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger. His neck hurt. John was sure if he looked he'd have a hickey the size of a grapefruit. It was high on his neck where it would be impossible to hide which he was positive was Sherlock's goal. John had been clearly given a _'hands off'_ sign. _What was next? Branding? Collars with Sherlock's name stamped on it?_ When John heard that first almost inaudible sniffle he froze in his tracks and closed his eyes. _Shit_. Taking a deep breath John opened his eyes and turned around. It was as he suspected. Sherlock was sitting sprawled on the floor where he'd landed, and he was silently crying. John felt like a monster.

“Sherlock. I'm sorry. I should never have hit you. That was so wrong of me. I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you I swear.” John felt like a complete ass _. What was wrong with him? He knew Sherlock was insecure. For fuck's sake Sherlock had proposed to him because the wait-staff may or may not have flirted with John! John should have expected some kind of territorial behavior_.

“No, you had every right John. I practically assaulted you. I held you against your will, and I hurt you deliberately for my own selfish purposes. I deserved far worse that a punch. I'm pathetic.” A huge tear welled up and dripped down, falling down to his lap. John groaned and fell to his knees in front of Sherlock, gathering the younger man tight to him. “I'm sorry John. I am.”

“I'm sorrier Sherlock. This hotel sucks. This has been the worst morning ever. Let's just get out of here and start our vacation over.” He kissed Sherlock tenderly and pressed his forehead to Sherlock's. The younger man's arms crept back around John who hugged him even tighter. “I'm so sorry Sherlock. I keep hurting you. I'm a cretin.”

“No you're not. You are a saint. No one else would have lasted nearly as long. 99% of people who have met me have concocted plans for least two separate ways of killing me…well, unless _you_ have as well in which case it would be a solid 100% including Mrs. Hudson who said she would either electrocute me or slip me poisoned cupcakes. You're also not the first person to punch me in the face.” John felt like the lowest thing on the planet. He buried his face against Sherlock's neck and squeezed Sherlock harder than ever.

“I'll marry you Sherlock. _Today_ if you really want to.” Sherlock's head jerked back and he looked completely stunned. “I'm serious. I've been in love with you for forever already, I know I'll never come close to loving anyone the way I love you and I'd be proud to be known as your husband. I want you to know I'm willing to stand next to you until the end of time and that I'll do anything necessary to make you believe me.”

“You're not just saying this because I'm sad and you're sacrificing yourself yet again by being nice to me?” John kissed Sherlock's forehead tenderly. Sherlock always looked like a lost little boy when he was truly upset and John would do anything to get that look off his face.

“No Sherlock. I mean it. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. We would have gotten married eventually. Why not now? We have no reason to wait.” Sherlock bit his lip and closed his eyes. _John really was too wonderful. He always understood what Sherlock needed to hear and never hesitated to tell him_. “You would of course owe me one massive reception for after though seeing how I won't be getting my Barbie Dream Wedding.”

“I promise John. You will look ravishing in your puffy pink reception dress complete with matching bedazzled veil and head piece.” Both men laughed and poked at one another. Sherlock buried his head in his John's neck and exhaled slowly. Looking up he let himself be comforted by John's steady calm gaze. “Come along John. Let's get out of here. We can get married in London. Poison cupcakes notwithstanding Mrs. Hudson would kill me on the spot if we came back married without her having been there.”

“Let's keep our landlady out of prison. It's the kind thing to do.” agreed John as he helped Sherlock stand. They kissed each other once more. Sherlock deliberately took the suitcase away from John and rolled it himself, holding John's hand tightly with the other. John had on _that smile_ , the one he only wore when Sherlock had done something pleasing on his own, and Sherlock was content. He made John wait safely by the exit while Sherlock signed them out of the hotel. The woman behind the desk made a moue of disappointment. “We are sorry to lose you so soon. Was there something not to your liking? Many guests expressed _an interest_ in your partner, we would have been happy to make any arrangements necessary. I assure you, no other hotel could provide for you as well as we could.”

_Sherlock glared at her, absolutely loathing her, the hotel, the guests, the décor and damn their food too_. “I don't share my John with anyone, _that's_ why we're leaving.” Sherlock wondered if John would let Sherlock enact some retribution against Mycroft for this atrocity. The woman looked disappointed all over again. Her eyes ran up and down Sherlock with blatant interest.

“I understand sir, he must be very special to have won someone as remarkable as yourself. Many people will experience much regret when they learn _you_ are not available.” Sherlock was startled out of his ire. _That sounded a lot like a compliment. From a stranger. A beautiful stranger. A compliment that apparently more than one person had paid to Sherlock. They had been watching John because of Sherlock, not just for John alone_.

Sherlock dropped her pen rudely and swirled away, not letting her know she had just astounded him. He swept back to John, resisted the urge to cover John with his coat, took his arm instead and left the swinger's hotel behind. “She just said I was remarkable. Everyone wanted to sleep with you because you were with me.”

“Told you.” shrugged John, unsurprised. “Stop viewing yourself through Victor Trevor's eyes Sherlock. There are probably millions of people out there that would do quite a bit to get into bed with you. Why you chose me will mystify the masses for all eternity.”

“You are the only person in the world I feel comfortable around. Everyone else only manage to aggravate me to varying degrees.” Sherlock guided John to the waiting town car. The driver got out and put their luggage in the back while Sherlock helped John into the vehicle.

“I can get in and out of a car by myself Sherlock.” said John. Sherlock climbed in after John, solicitously not letting go of the smaller man's elbow until he was properly seated.

“No you can't. I told you you're my special little lady and I wouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't help you with doors and other taxing matters.” Both men were snickering as the door closed behind them.

“Shut it. If anyone here is a big girl it's you. We've proven that _Mr. Shrieky_.” the not-so-veiled reference to the snow incident only made Sherlock narrow his eyes. John stared him right back at him, undaunted. Then John said in clear definite tones, “ _I_ am the man and _you_ are the woman.”

“John _please_. When we get married it's obvious _you_ will be the bride and _I_ will be the groom. Simple physics.” Sherlock sat back and relaxed into the seat, ignoring the thump to his shoulder as John punched him lightly.

“Why is it obvious? I'm manlier than you are. You're the one with the slinky cat body. You'd look good in a long white gown, all lacy and precious.” John was grinning and laughing softly. Sherlock elbowed him but they both knew John was right. Sherlock had dressed up as a woman on several occasions for various cases, he was very good with make-up and he had looked stunning every time. It was unfair, thought John to himself who at the exact same time thought he was the most fortunate of people to have found someone as endlessly complex and undefinable as Sherlock.

“I'm much larger than you are John. You'd never be able to carry me properly across the threshold, especially with your bad shoulder and your sore leg, never mind your advanced years. Our marriage would be doomed! Is that what you want? A _doomed_ marriage?” demanded Sherlock with highly exaggerated dismay.

“My advanced years have hauled your bony body all over the place plenty of times. I can carry you. I can see you now, flowers woven in your hair, a maidenly blush on your cheeks. I...I think I'm getting _misty_.” John pretended to dab at his eyes and Sherlock poked him hard in the ribs, making the shorter man jump and giggle. Soon both of them were involved in a hand smacking elbow jabbing tickle war that ended with Sherlock getting a bloody nose just as they arrived at their new destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the first hotel so don't try to book your vacation there. I looked up the second hotel but I made up most of the interior except for a glimpse I caught in a tourist brochure. Traveling is fun.


	3. Why me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things never go smoothly for these two, not ever. I don't know how they deal with it all, I really don't.

Their new hotel was named _Il Salviatino_. It was a lovely stone building with long years written all over it. Their driver brought their luggage inside, and Sherlock signed them in while holding John's handkerchief to his nose, graciously receiving the key to their finest suite. A bellhop took their luggage from John, and led the way to a discrete bank of elevators, bringing them to the topmost floor of the building.

The room was perfect. It was large and airy but not cavernous like their first hotel. The floors were parquet, a particular favorite of Sherlock's and the décor was clean, simple and elegant. Both men felt very comfortable, even after the bellhop tugged open their curtains to reveal that one entire wall was a glassed in patio. It came complete with small breakfast table and chairs and a fancifully tiled path led to a set of spiral staircases exiting directly into the gardens below. “The doors are all keyed to your room card. As long as you have it you can use any gate or door that leads back to this room.

“This is more like it!” remarked John as the bellhop made himself scarce. The no-longer-bleeding Sherlock had taken care of the tip. John never knew how much was appropriate and always got frazzled when made to deal with things like that. A small dining table was tucked into a corner as well as a writing desk and a flat screen TV was cleverly hidden behind an artful tapestry that could be tugged easily aside if wanted. There was a menu laid out as well as a wine list. “Thank goodness there's room-service with this place. We don't have to see strangers if we don't want to.”

“That's ideal John. After that last place a night in alone sounds perfect. We probably should get out an about during the afternoon though, see something apart from the inside of the sheets.” John just shrugged and unpacked their bag while Sherlock washed up. The bathroom was an actual room equipped with a sizable but normal bathtub as well as a shower. After he returned Sherlock took his case and laid it on one of the coffee tables. The dark haired man crept up to John and slipped his arms around John's waist, resting his curly head on top of John's, “I am sorry about your neck. That was out of line.”

The massive love bite still pulsed and throbbed but John leaned back into Sherlock's chest and relaxed. “It's okay Sherlock. I'm sorry about bruising your face. You've got a good sized mark there.” Both men looked at one another and as one both men made their way to the bathroom. “Jesus Christ Sherlock! Are those _teeth marks?_ ”

John tilted his head to get a better look at the incredibly brilliant love-bite now decorating the top of his neck. It looked like Sherlock tried to chew his way through John. John took a long deep breath before exhaling. He glanced over at Sherlock who was gingerly touching the fist-sized mark on his chin. “Good hit John. You almost broke my jaw.”

Sherlock's jaw not only sported a bruise but the right side of his nose which John had accidentally elbowed during the ride over had swollen a bit and was rather red. His own love-bite, still brilliantly colored, added to the now festive array of wounds Sherlock was bearing. “We should do something gentle today.”

“Museums?” suggested John. His behind still stung a bit and a few hours reprieve would be appreciated. Sherlock nodded. Sherlock kissed the top of John's head and stepped back. “We could go see _David_.”

“Good choice John. Off we go then.” The _Galleria dell'Academia_ was grand as expected. Sherlock shooed away the tour guide that attempted to take them through. Instead the tall dark man folded his arm around his doctor's shoulder and walked him through the exhibits, explaining this piece of work or the theories behind various carvings or paintings. John barely needed to say anything. He was perfectly happy to ignore everything Sherlock was telling him to concentrate on his amazing voice.

Sherlock's voice was one of John's very most favorite things. It was so deep. Sherlock _rumbled_ sometimes. The sound-waves vibrated when the tall man spoke, and John fancied that his body had become attuned to the sound of Sherlock's voice. A body could _feel_ each and every letter of whatever word Sherlock spoke, his inflections were masterful, and when he stressed a point a small furrow appeared between his brows like he was concentrating especially hard. Sherlock's face changed expression with quicksilver speed. As impassive as the taller man like to seem when he became interested in a topic his face shifted and changed to reflect the degrees of intensity he was experiencing about the subject matter. Like Pavlov's famed experiment John was helpless to resist the lure of that velvet darkness and he felt almost hypnotized. “John are you even listening to me?”

“No. Not really. Don't stop though. I'm having a great time.” John was totally relaxed and guileless. _Sherlock smelled so good, like rare spices and hidden treasure_. The weight and warmth of Sherlock's arm was comforting and the intimacy they were sharing felt rare and precious. This was the first time in ages they had spent an afternoon out just enjoying themselves. There were no cases to rush back to. There wasn't work waiting for them. They had no social obligations of any sort. The rush of freedom made John feel buoyant and almost serene.

“If you're not even listening why should I trouble myself? Did you take nothing in? _Michelangelo_? Art form? The curatorial procedures needed to mount these displays? Nothing?” Sherlock sounded distressed and more than a bit irritated. John snapped out of his daydream come to life when Sherlock's arm dropped away. John looked up and realized he'd stumbled yet again.

Brave soldier that John was he didn't even try to make up an excuse. Lies never worked with Sherlock at any rate, even if John had been capable of a true lie. He wasn't. John was almost handicapped by his relentless honesty. It had taken much coaching from the natural born liar that Sherlock was for John to even pull off the many times he was now required to climb into yet another costume and pose as someone else on behalf of the latest case. John looked up and confessed while keeping steady eye contact with Sherlock, “I was enjoying the sound of your voice, I wasn't really listening to what you were saying. Most of what you tell me normally goes right over my head so I guess I kind of tuned out there. I was really having a great time though.” Sherlock looked torn. He was still clearly unhappy that John wasn't in raptures over his detailed explanation of the museum but if John was made happy simply by hearing Sherlock speak, well, that was actually quite wonderful. Sherlock did love to talk. He looked down at John who looked anxious and concerned. His small hands gripped at Sherlock's and his sweet blue eyes begged for understanding. John hadn't meant to offend Sherlock.

“You are a _very_ strange man John Watson. I don't wish for things to just go over your head though I do appreciate your appreciation of my speaking voice. If you don't understand something I want you to tell me so I can explain it. You aren't as intelligent as I am but mostly it's a matter of time. You are more than capable of understanding everything I know, just not as quickly. You have surprised me many times with your abilities and I have thought much about it.” _John really was water. He was an ocean of patience_. _Sherlock decided he himself was not air. He was the one who was earth, deep and dark, filled with oddities and undiscovered treasures. John was a river of love that ran deep, carving its way inexorably across Sherlock's landscape, digging in, becoming part of him. Sherlock was absorbing John, allowing him to fill in all the small disregarded places and learn all his secrets. John knew more about Sherlock than any living person apart from Mummy and Mycroft. John's mind was clear and focused compared to most people and he had an uncanny knack for picking out cornerstone details. He was the center of Sherlock's universe, the focal point that Sherlock now depended on to help him understand everything that once was out of reach._

“You spent time thinking about how I think?” For some reason John always felt it was necessary to restate things. Sherlock huffed out an irritated breath and looked sharply at his lover.

“Of course I have John. I find it difficult to believe that I even need to explain this but I have spent a rather large amount of time thinking lots of things about you.” John looked entirely surprised and _that_ made Sherlock surprised. “John I've already told you that I love you. What do you think that means to me? How much time do I spend researching things I find interesting or intriguing?”

John thought about this. Sherlock had once sat at the kitchen table for nine days straight watching eighteen different types of cheese turn green. _It hadn't even been for a case, except perhaps distantly in that all the information Sherlock collected in his mind palace would used for or because of a case eventually. He hadn't been romantically involved with the cheese, at least John hoped he hadn't. John shook his head when he realized his brain had derailed and was now wondering how exactly Sherlock would have meaningful sex with cheese._ _The point_ , he reminded himself, _was how much of Sherlock's normally insatiable need to take in information was allocated to collecting bits of knowledge about John_. He looked up at his lover.

“At least 65%. That's the amount of free time I would normally be devoting to thinking about other things that I now devote solely to thinking about you John. I've amassed what you'd be sure to think is a disturbing amount of data. You're fascinating. I'm sure it would be more romantic to say 100% but we both know that would be a lie. I only devote 3% to thinking of myself, just enough to deal with my transport. It used to be 10% but after you moved in I let a lot of it slide and you seemed to just take over so maybe I need to adjust the numbers somewhat. If I shifted them mft...” Sherlock's mouth was effectively silenced by John's. John threw his arms around Sherlock's neck and hung on tight as he kissed Sherlock with all the love he now felt pulsing through him.

When the kiss finally ended, much to the relief of the museum guards who were en route to stop the public display of affection, John stepped back and smiled happily at Sherlock. “I should have thought of that. Sometimes I've wondered if you think of me at all. I guess I was wrong.”

“Yes you were. You are never out of my thoughts John. I've stated more than once that I need you and I do. You're my best friend and you help me make sense out of everything chaotic.” Sherlock took John's arm and began to lead him through the displays once more, this time not bothering to wax eloquent on the topics of technique or cultural impact. John seemed perfectly content to have his arm taken and smiled around genially.

“It's my natural dullness. I'm like a big black hole of blah.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's words but heard the teasing note in it. _He smiled to himself and wondered if he should tell John how he had never just walked around laughing at nothing with anyone ever before, that John made Sherlock laugh and giggle when Sherlock's life up until John had lacked both forms of expression_.

“Yes John, exactly. You're so boring you even manage to stop me dead in my tracks. Congratulations.” John snickered and Sherlock tried not to join him but it was a struggle. He angled them towards a convenient exit and John just let himself be led around. Sherlock put his arm back around John's shoulder as soon as they were outside. John let his arm circle Sherlock's hip and Sherlock just beamed. _Now everyone could see that they were clearly together and it was perfect_.

They wandered the streets of Florence noticing nothing but one another. For hours they trailed up and down, stopping at shops for refreshments and treats to make up for not having breakfast, pausing at benches for little rests as their conversation wandered far and wide. They talked about little things and big things, they exchanged ideas and argued gently back and forth about facts, dragging out their phones to prove themselves to the other. It was the best day Sherlock had ever had. He wasn't bored for a second.

John's conversation was witty and engaging, full of teases and deliberate misunderstandings as he coaxed Sherlock to reword himself. It was an old trick of John's, one where he slowly taught Sherlock how to engage with regular people. Since John's arrival in his life Sherlock had finally learned to dull the sharp edges of his comments a bit, to be a little nicer to the people he didn't actually despise, to explain himself instead of just calling people idiotic. Sherlock was being tamed slowly by John's gentle and ever-patient hand.

It was new and it was the same. Talking with Sherlock had always been interesting but this was the first time in John's memory that they had ever just chatted. The hours of the day had flitted by pleasantly and John's mind buzzed with all the little things he had just learned about Sherlock. For all the time they had known one another so many of their formative details had gone unmentioned.

John told Sherlock about the day he'd left to join the army and Sherlock told John about his first day at boarding school. John explained how he'd gotten drunk the night he'd first lost a patient and Sherlock told John about the day Mycroft had first thrown an unrepentant Sherlock into rehab. John told Sherlock that the first time he'd realized Sherlock was an addict he'd felt sick and Sherlock promised John that he would never do drugs ever again and hadn't touched anything since they'd met. Sherlock fingered the star-burst scar on John's shoulder and in halting words John told Sherlock all the details of the day his life had nearly drained out onto the burning sands of Afghanistan. Sherlock removed his coat, rolled up his sleeve and without looking pointed to a small pinprick scar on the inside of his elbow. It was the last in a long line of needle marks.

“This is when Lestrade found me and called Mycroft. I had to clean up or never work with the Met ever again. It took a long time but I got clean and finally went back to work. A week after I got back I found a flatmate and I've never needed to use since.” He rolled his sleeve down and John helped him back into his coat, both men now silent. Sherlock took John's hand and walked him out of a small park they had wandered into. “We both could have ended before we even began. When I think of that I feel like I'm breaking into pieces. How would I have ended if I hadn't met you John? That night with the cabbie? A filthy alley somewhere with a needle in my arm?”

“Stop Sherlock. _Don't_. We haven't died yet. In fact, that should be our new motto. Mrs. Hudson could make us a needlepoint flag that says that. _'John and Sherlock: They Haven't Died Yet'_ , maybe as a wedding present?” Sherlock didn't really want to but he ended up smiling a bit at John. John winked up at him, his eyes mirthful and full of joy. “We beat the odds Sherlock, we beat them and we have each other. There's absolutely nothing you and I can't do if we want. We're practically un-killable. You actually died once and you got over it. Criminals around the world must be shaking in their boots.”

“You do love a challenge John. I'm happy not to disappoint.” John's smile grew even bigger and Sherlock felt warm inside all over again. John was his true partner, his perfect half. There was no situation too dangerous or too distasteful to daunt John Watson. “I'm happy to say I've never once been disappointed with you John. You've always been just perfect.”

“You're only saying that so I'll sleep with you.” winked John and Sherlock couldn't help but blush. His mind had definitely wandered away from the delights of the afternoon. John looked more handsome than ever. _The warm day had given him a glow, the honey in his skin catching the light even as the silver in his hair almost glittered._ _Sherlock was dazzled by the irresistible charms of his doctor. He was grateful again the John had allowed Sherlock the freedom to do as he wished and so Sherlock leaned over and kissed his doctor most tenderly._ John's eyes fluttered shut and he gasped softly as Sherlock allowed his lips to glide over John's in a loving caress. John's head dropped back. “Fine. I'll sleep with you.”

Both men chuckled together as they played lovingly back and forth. Deciding that discretion was the best choice since they were in a strange city Sherlock managed to drag himself away from John long enough to flag down a taxi. As soon as they got in though Sherlock clamped his arm around John's shoulder, holding the smaller man tightly to his side. John reached his arm over Sherlock's lap and took Sherlock's free hand in his and Sherlock just melted.

John felt Sherlock mold into his side like putty as their fingers tangled together. John was determined to make up for all the affection that Sherlock had missed out on in all his lonely life. Cuddles in cabs or wherever they happened to be were going to be provided on an ongoing basis. John had plans to implement certain PDA rules so he'd know what Sherlock was willing for others to see and what John should never share with anyone. John was entirely devoted to his mad-man. He knew he was up to the challenge of providing a loving relationship in which his idiosyncratic lover could flourish. Sherlock was _starved_ for affection, almost insane for it now that he knew what he was missing and John would be damned if he'd allow _his_ Sherlock to ever feel undesired or neglected ever again.

Sherlock dealt with the taxi driver before grandiosely assisting John out of the vehicle. John huffed but allowed it and both men bumped each other's shoulders affectionately afterward. “Prat.” said John with a smile. Sherlock just grinned and offered his arm. John took it and Sherlock escorted his lover back to their room. “Let's order in love, we can use that big glass patio and overlook the garden.”

Sherlock nodded and hung onto his doctor tight all the way into the room. He wouldn't let John go at all and with a laugh Sherlock grabbed up the room-service menu and took John down with him as he tumbled onto the bed. Laying across the doctor to keep him pinned Sherlock read out the available choices for various courses while John lazily caressed Sherlock's arm and shoulders. Once they'd made their decisions Sherlock reluctantly rolled off of John, called it in and then dragged John back off the bed. “Do you dance John?” asked the tall man. Without waiting for an answer Sherlock took John's hand and waist to begin dancing around the room. They grinned at one another as they moved together fluidly, “You can.”

“So can you. Why have I never seen you dance like this before? We've been to the clubs loads of times.” Sherlock tried out some of the more complex steps his mother had made him learn and was pleased to see John keep up with him almost effortlessly. Sherlock raised a curious eyebrow. “My sister. She dated a lot and needed to impress her girlfriends with her skills. I was forced to dance with her whenever she learned a new move until she got it perfect. I've been force-danced since I was five.”

“Mummy. She had rather hoped that teaching me skills that were by their very nature social activities would somehow enable me to fit in. It didn't really work. I don't know anything about modern dance.” John could imagine not. In no way could he see how pressuring Sherlock to dance with people he didn't like would help him make friends or even meet a prospective lover. When you pressured Sherlock the wrong way what you got in return was usually the worst of Sherlock you could get. He was dancing gracefully though so John raised his own eyebrow. “Oh very well. _Mycroft_. We only had each other to practice with. It was hideous and I can't delete it or I'll forget how to dance.”

John felt both amused and horrified at Sherlock's situation. How awful to be forced to endure such deprivations and humiliations when his family had been well-to-do enough to at least hire someone else for Sherlock to dance with instead of making him dance with his brother. On the other hand. “What did you do to him?”

“At first it was mostly deliberately stepping on him but later it evolved.” Sherlock sounded evasive. John looked at him suspiciously until Sherlock almost jiggled around before he just gave in. “ _Fine_. The pranks grew worse and worse until I outed him in front of the entire family _by accident_ when I told everyone he only ever danced with men which technically was true since he'd only ever danced with me. I wasn't to know he was gay and that no one else knew. It was his birthday.”

John didn't know whether or not to laugh or be appalled. Of course Sherlock would be the one to say the absolute worst thing at the most perfectly awful moment. For a second John felt pity for Mycroft who must have been so devastated to have his personal business aired in front of the people he would never be able to avoid. Then John remembered who he was feeling sorry for and his face hardened. “What did he do?”

“He told Mummy about my drug addiction which I'd managed to keep hidden from everyone as well. It was a nightmare.” Sherlock shuddered a bit and tried to pull away but John wouldn't let him go. “It didn't end well.”

“What happened Sherlock, what did Mycroft do?” Sherlock didn't want to talk about it. He stopped dancing and went to sit on the bed. _They were about to have a long romantic night together and this sort of thing should just not be talked about. Except that John was asking. John wouldn't judge him. Sherlock could trust John._

“Mummy, not Mycroft. They had me sectioned. The drug addiction was the last straw for the family. My behavior, my interests, my _everything_ , all of it was wrong. I was seventeen and they locked me away. They said it was until I was clean but that was a lie. I'd been to rehab before and that time didn't involve a room designed like a prison cell. They kept me in there for months to test my mental acuity, to determine how sane I was, to see what the problem was. _High-functioning sociopath_ was the kindest thing they said in the end. I had never hurt anyone, not really, so they let me go. I ran away from everyone, found the first dealer I could and stayed high for months. I stole from Mycroft to pay for it all. He couldn't stop me.”

John found he was breathing in small hard breaths. _He wasn't upset about the drug use. Someone as undeniably gifted as Sherlock would have found the lure of drugs irresistible, both as a scientist and as a natural born addictive personality. There had been no one there for him to direct his massive intellect, to provide any kind of outlet for him. That his callous and unfeeling family had forced the brilliant and sensitive young man to be cut off from everything that kept him sane made John's blood boil. To hear that Sherlock had run off and overcompensated for his deprivation by going on a near suicidal binge of epic proportions didn't surprise the doctor one bit. Sherlock was a man of extremes. He didn't really do anything half-way_. “No one is _ever_ going to do that to you again Sherlock. I will fucking take them to pieces if they try to lock you away. Never!”

John was resolute and Sherlock melted all over again. This was another part of John that Sherlock found himself unable to resist. _Protective John_. _John who was so much smaller and understood so little sometimes. John who grew up poor and worked for everything he'd gained. That precious tenacious John who always wanted to shield Sherlock from anything that made Sherlock uncomfortable. He'd done it right from the first moment. John had sacrifice all of himself willingly and without hesitation to make sure that Sherlock was kept perfectly content. No one had ever cared for the odd young man like that before and John did it effortlessly_. Sherlock felt himself curl around John, winding his arms and legs until John couldn't get away if he tried but John didn't. Instead John hung on just as tightly, tangling his fingers in Sherlock's hair and wrapping his arm around Sherlock's ribs to hold him just as tight.

They stayed that way until a polite tap at the door announced the arrival of their evening meal. Sherlock and John ended up ending their embrace as their stomach growled in unison and both men fell apart laughing. John dragged himself off the bed to answer the door. A young woman pushed a heavy cart in and Sherlock directed her to the patio. She lit candles for the table, laid out all the plates and cutlery then arranged their meals attractively before pouring the wine and departing discretely. They were very pleased.

Sherlock didn't argue about food tonight. Tonight he was willing to eat as much as John wanted him to because John was feeding Sherlock one lovely bite at a time. Every now and again John would lift the glass of wine to Sherlock's lips. Sherlock shifted his seat closer so John didn't need to reach as far, obediently opening his mouth for John bite after love filled bite. John murmured encouragement the same way he had murmured compliments, just soft little words that let Sherlock know how happy he was making the doctor, how pleased John was with him, how utterly wonderful Sherlock was for doing this for John. Sherlock glowed.

He was happy right down to the soles of his feet. Sherlock loved the warm appreciative look in John's eyes, the way his cheeks lifted when he smiled and how the crow’s-feet at the corners of said eyes deepened. Sherlock was enchanted with each and every bit of his doctor's face, seeing John's unadulterated love shining through and realizing he'd seen bits of this face for years now as John had loved him quietly in the background, never letting on that _Sherlock_ was John's whole reason for being. John had a never-ending supply of sweet words and loving expressions, and Sherlock found himself hungry for more. _He'd do anything, absolutely anything to maintain this level of attention_. John seemed perfectly willing to supply his devotions non-stop and Sherlock tingled all over.

John was also very happy. Sherlock had eaten nearly his entire meal and had done it smiling and without protest. The expression on his face was one of sweet revelation, almost heart-breaking when you knew that Sherlock wasn't used to being emotionally pampered, that being fed a meal by your lover was more than nutrition for your body. It was food for your soul and Sherlock's soul had never been so well-tended.

John wasn't able to deduce the world the way Sherlock did but after all this time he had definitely developed a sixth sense about Sherlock, one that grew more and more refined as time went by. John could almost see the good his loving attentions were having on the odd young man at his side. Sherlock was like a small puppy now, almost wiggling in his seat in anticipation of the next bite of dinner. His multi-colored eyes were bright and merry, his cheeks were faintly flushed but best of all was the constant little laughter that was ongoing through the meal. John told little jokes and Sherlock snickered and giggled the entire time, much to John's amusement. Sherlock was happy and that made John so proud he was fit to burst.

At the end of the meal there was a single serving of a rather decadent dessert covered in caramelized sugar, chocolate dipped fruits and heavy cream. John diplomatically shared it between the both of them and Sherlock forbore complaining that he only had half, considering what had happened the night before. Sherlock had no intention of slipping into sleep and wasting another night with John. When the last bite disappeared into his mouth Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips to John.

John licked a stray bit of cream off the corner of Sherlock's lush lips. Dinner had been very enjoyable and now he was pleasantly full and very relaxed. Sherlock nuzzled against his cheek before resting his head on John's shoulder, sighing with contentment. John kissed Sherlock's cheek and allowed his fingers to work through Sherlock's curls. “Today has been wonderful John. I enjoyed all of it.”

John nodded. Today had been simple and uncomplicated. They had spent a lovely day out with one another, had managed to grow even closer than ever and nothing horrific had happened. _Well, apart from finding out that their hotel was for swingers and Sherlock having his insecure meltdown or having to talk to Greg. Apart from that today had been perfect_. “Call room service for another bottle of wine. I'm going to go run a bath for us.”

Sherlock nodded, his cheeks pink once again. Unused to the intimacy of it all the thought of sharing something like a bath with John was enough to make Sherlock kick into high gear again. Energy shot through him and he zipped away, barking orders over the telephone before racing around the room to turn down the bed and agonize over his pajama selection before realizing he wasn't probably going to get a chance to get into them. By then room-service showed up, whisked away the mess left from dinner and had a bottle of red wine open and waiting next to two freshly filled glasses. Sherlock shed his clothes, picked up the glasses and made his way to the bathroom.

John was already in the water, pink and bare as the day he was born. He looked so darling that Sherlock felt all melty again especially when he saw the bruises on John's knuckles where he had struck Sherlock earlier. For some reason instead of feeling unhappy about the physical altercation Sherlock couldn't help but focus on how _fast_ John was, how _unexpected_ he had been, how _quickly_ he had taken Sherlock out.

Sherlock was dangerous. Very dangerous. He'd spent a long time on the move destroying James Moriarty's crime network and during the course of that task had eliminated many of his lieutenants personally. Sherlock had spent his whole life acquiring a startling array of skills, martial ones included but John had taken him out with a single hit that Sherlock had not been able to dodge. _John was fantastic. John was bold. John was fearless. John knew just how to handle Sherlock, could break him into a thousand bleeding pieces if he felt like it. Instead he patted the water invitingly and made Sherlock lay out in front of him so he could rub Sherlock's shoulders_. _Sherlock was drowning with love for his fierce soldier._

John was thrilled. _Sherlock really was like a new bride, bashful and timid. His trust and faith in John's understanding and love made John feel warm and protective. He wanted to shelter Sherlock, keep him close, to pamper him as much as the tall young man could bear_. Taking a cloth and pouring a measure of body wash on it John slowly swept the foamy fabric back and forth over Sherlock's chest, down his arms and over his partially submerged belly. John reapplied the body wash and Sherlock helpfully lifted one leg and then the other, utilizing his unearthly flexibility so John could even wash his feet without moving himself. John felt lucky once more.

When John was done Sherlock fussed until John allowed himself to be similarly washed, his skin pink and rosy from the heat of the water. Sherlock traced over his body reverently, fingering John's scars fondly as he worked his way back and forth over his lover. Sherlock made John stand so he could soap him up as much as possible. He pulled the plug so the water began to drain out but flipped on the shower, using the hose attachment to slowly rinse John off. “I love your body John. It's perfect. Look how strong you are. You feel like stone everywhere except right here.” Sherlock leaned over and once again kissed the soft mound of John's belly.

“I can't believe you like my tum.” remarked John. Sherlock was on his knees now, his face pressed into the yielding flesh. Sherlock was nuzzling again, his long arms wrapped around John's hips to keep their bodies pressed tight.

“I really do John. I like the curve of it. I like how soft it is. I like how my hands feel when I touch it.” John wasn't sure how to feel about this. He wasn't _unhappy_ but it was a bit of an adjustment to make after spending a lifetime with the impression that having an untoned belly was some kind of social crime. Sherlock's belly was hard and flat, the muscles long and lean, just like every other part of Sherlock.

John looked down at the man kneeling in front of him, dark curls pressed tight against his head as the water streamed over them both. _There wasn't a spare ounce of flesh on Sherlock, he had the body of a dancer and that ass! That glorious, plump, firm, rounded, magnificent ass_. Sherlock was also thinking about bottoms. His face was pressed against the softness of John's belly while his hands crept around to cup the pert firm cheeks of John's ass. Sherlock thought John's behind was the height of perfection, unlike his own. Each of Sherlock's long fingered hands were filled end to end with exactly enough of John's behind. When Sherlock spread his fingers out he was able to hold nearly all of it fully and he couldn't believe how much he liked the feel of it. John's behind was muscular and almost hard like the rest of him but it was layered with an irresistibly soft layer of plump flesh. “Turn around John.”

John turned and allowed his legs to be coaxed apart so Sherlock could sit back on his heels in the endless hot water of the hotel shower and admire his lover. John should have felt exposed, vulnerable even but he didn't. Sherlock's brilliant mind was one of the sexiest things John had ever encountered and right now, knowing that every molecule of his person was being microscopically examined and stored away permanently in Sherlock's mind palace, knowing the he held such pride of place in such a vaunted location made John's knees weak this time. He felt luckier than ever to have caught the brilliant young man's attention. Submitting to his lover's curiosity was no hardship. It was an honor to be spread wide open and given the most intimate of touches.

Sherlock was indulging himself to the extreme. He ran the pads of his fingers over John's lower back, traces the fine dusting of almost invisible hairs that wandered here and there until John's body hair began to make a reappearance between the valley of his thighs. John's skin was milky white where it wasn't faintly tanned. John's years of service in the desert had never truly faded but the marks on John's body only made Sherlock eager to learn every line and mar. John's constant mystery never faded.

The entrance to John's body was as might be expected, a small pink furl that enticed Sherlock's hands to linger and play for a moment. Sherlock stroked and rubbed gently, smiling and entranced as he observed the gradual changes that signaled John's growing arousal.

John's hips flexed gently. His penis, at first quiescent, was now showing interest. Sherlock wasn't about to allow an opportunity like this to slip by. “Turn John.” he ordered again and silently his soldier obeyed. Sherlock examined John for only a brief minute. John's pubic hair was thick and dark with water now. His cock was half-hard, beginning to rise and make itself know. The long foreskin covered the head of John's glans which had yet to make an appearance. Wasting not another moment Sherlock took John into his mouth. He didn't stop until his nose was buried against John's furred body. Sherlock could feel the pulse and throb of John's heart as his cock began to fill and harden swiftly. John's hands came to rest on Sherlock's shoulders, gripping lightly as if to ground himself. Sherlock closed his eyes and concentrated on the change happening in his mouth, his clever tongue tracing and measuring as he analyzed the swell of the wakening tumescence.

John leaned back against the warm tiles of the shower, his legs a little awkwardly placed as he struggled not to slip on the tub floor. Sherlock's mouth was hot. He could feel himself begin to fill his lover as his cock stiffened rapidly. When Sherlock hummed with appreciation John's cock skipped ahead a couple of steps and became rigid. “Bed. Wanna. _Bed_ Sherlock.” John's ability to speak had been severely compromised. Sherlock chose to ignore him for a minute longer. When he determined that John could get no bigger he reluctantly allowed himself to be drawn off and chivvied out of the shower and toward the bed.

They toweled off as quickly as they could. Two quick sips of their wine before the glasses were completely discarded and then both men were on the bed. Their kisses were aggressive. Arms and legs came into play as each man struggled for dominance. John bit at Sherlock's neck hard in the end and Sherlock's entire body became boneless and willing. John nipped his way back up to Sherlock's mouth, biting and sucking on his lips before pressing a soul searching kiss to him. Sherlock exhaled raggedly and John began kissing his way back toward Sherlock's ear. A small whine escaped Sherlock's mouth as John's tongue teased the shell of his ear. John whispered, his voice almost harsh, grating, “I want to fuck you very, _very_ hard. Do you think you can take it?”

Sherlock's entire body wanted to clamp around John's right that instant. The younger man felt his back arch and his thighs spread of their own accord. His hips began to rut. “I want to try. Start slow.” John's head bowed as he reined himself in. When he looked up Sherlock saw that same expression from their first night, that implacable will that John was using to keep himself in check long enough to prepare Sherlock. Sherlock shivered in anticipation. _How long would he have to wait before John's will gave way and Sherlock could experience the full measure of him?_ He shivered again.

John took him to pieces all over again. The good doctor played Sherlock's body expertly, his clever caresses and artful kisses teasing the younger man up and up until he was light-headed and dazed with desire. One at a time John's fingers had crept inside Sherlock, rocking steadily back and forth. “John. I need you. I need you to take me and make me yours. Yours John. Please. Now!”

“Oh god yes.” moaned John who had been at the outer limit of his self-restraint. Sherlock was too tempting. His long nubile body had twisted and flushed gorgeously. The sounds escaping his plush lips went straight to John's cock and the heat! Sherlock was blistering hot inside and John wanted to burn. John realized that as possessive as Sherlock was John's desire to lay claim to this unmatched beauty beneath him was greater. “I'll make you mine, all mine Sherlock. I love you. I won't let anyone else have you, not ever. I can't. I won't. You're mine. You will be mine forever.”

Sherlock could have wept with joy at John's words. _This was exactly what he wanted, what he craved. He wanted someone to hang onto, someone who wanted to be clung to. Sherlock adored how focused being in love made him, how all his senses were engaged simultaneously, how bored he had failed to become even once since he and John finally, finally became lovers. John was that focus, that rock. John made everything perfect_. Wrapping his arms tight around the doctor's shoulders Sherlock submitted entirely to his John.

When they began it was indeed love they made. John's passions were greatly aroused and Sherlock was nearly out of his head with lust but when their bodies united they blended together in a tangle of arms and legs, mouths and tongues. Sherlock wrapped himself tight around John who never stopped kissing those hungry lips as they rocked together.

John startled Sherlock when he pulled back, lifting the slim body of his lover as he went until Sherlock was sitting astride John's spread thighs and John was sitting on his heels. He thrust slowly and Sherlock shuddered from head to toe at the change in depth and pressure. “John!” he moaned repeatedly. His head fell forward, resting on John's good shoulder. John rocked his hips slowly, dragging out each thrust and pull as much as he could. The weight of Sherlock's body drove the younger man down deep every time. Each time John bottomed out he groaned as he exulted in being inside his lover as much as he was able.

Finally Sherlock got his feet under him and pushed John onto his back. Setting his knees wide Sherlock began to ride hard and steady, giving his hips the occasional twist which made both men groan appreciatively. “This is nice John. I can control everything like this.” panted Sherlock, his eyes shut tight. He was beginning to experiment with speeds and twists now. John was more than happy to simply lay back and allow Sherlock to indulge his never-ending curiosity. Sherlock was ecstatic with more than sensual bliss. John was being perfect as always and indulging him yet again. Sherlock took full advantage, allowing his hands to roam over John's chest while his hips rocked and lifted rhythmically. He discovered that the delicious shocks of pleasure he experienced could be drawn out and enjoyed with greater fullness so he slowed down.

John was absolutely destroyed. Each lift and fall were almost more than the man could bear. He kept his hands above his head, gripping his pillow. If he tried to touch Sherlock in any way it would be too much and John would be finished. He couldn't let it end so he struggled against the inevitable.

Sherlock was having none of it. He wanted John to be undone. Sherlock couldn't wait to see the rise and crest of pleasure play out on John's oh-so-expressive face. _John was beautiful, a ray of light. During orgasm he was at his most magnificent, the rictus of pleasure twisting his sweet face into a grimace of near pain_. Sherlock loved it and wanted to yet again be the reason John made it.

It was like everything else in their life. The struggle. The test of wills. The constant shift of control and power. Both men worked in devoted synchronicity, their many parts complimenting or challenging the other. Lately John had been in control but for a few precious minutes Sherlock took that control back. “You're so beautiful John. A patchwork. A piece of art. A lifetime of stories and all of them are mine. I love that you're in me John. It's where you were meant to be, like this, owing me, making me yours and you want that don't you. You want me to be yours?”

Sherlock's deep rumbling voice was soft as he made his offer, a little broken as he struggled not to pant as he spoke. There was a tremor there too, a tiny clue that let John know that Sherlock was not as in control as he seemed. Experimentally John thrust upward a tad harder than he had before and was rewarded with a breathy gasp. His own normal calm tenor was deep and raspy, “I do want you. I always have. I always will.”

Sherlock lost the ability to speak once again. His moans were more than satisfactory indicators for John though. Sherlock shuddered and sighed, gasped and whimpered as John's body began to drive upward with increased ferocity. Sherlock rose on his knees slightly, his back arched and his hands tangled in his hair as he began to hold his breath, taking in air in little intermittent gasps. His body locked into position and John finally gripped Sherlock's shoulder with one hand while the other stroked up and down his lover's turgid length. Savagely John twisted his hips as he drove in one last time, giving his hand a little twist at the same time. Sherlock grunted loudly before his body bent backward at an alarming angle for a second before he rocked forward, his come leaking from between John's fingers.

John couldn't hold back any longer. When Sherlock's body gripped his at the height of his orgasm John was completely lost. His body arched, shoving Sherlock high above him. “Fucking gorgeous! Gorgeous. You're so gorgeous!” he chanted as his body shook and quaked beneath Sherlock's. John drove himself upward until he was unable to move another inch. Sherlock slowly tumbled forward to lay awkwardly over John's torso. His chest heaved and his skin was mottled red and slick with sweat. John thought that Sherlock had never seemed more beautiful.

Sherlock's head was clear and ringing with rapturous silence. _John made everything calm and still inside Sherlock's mind and the wild young man gloried in it. His transport was once again of no matter and he allowed himself to remain slumped over John's small strong body. John was warm and sweaty, he smelled of salt and sex._ As Sherlock came back to himself slowly he became aware of how his body curved in exactly the right places to fit itself over John's. Their legs were tangled together slightly and John's hands were smoothing the skin along Sherlock's back and buttocks with long gentle strokes. Sherlock blinked wearily and managed to move his head enough to smile weakly at John. “Hey.” was all he managed.

“Hey.” said John with a pleased little smirk. Sherlock felt John's muscles tense before he was gently rolled off his lover and settled tenderly onto his side. John climbed out of bed and came back with warm damp flannels. He wiped Sherlock down slowly, enjoying each moment as much as he could. John returned to the bathroom and stayed there a couple of minutes before he came back freshly washed and yawning hard. Sherlock hadn't moved a muscle. John didn't keep himself away. He tucked himself right up tight to Sherlock, hooking a leg high over Sherlock's narrow hips and slinging a hand over Sherlock's waist.

Sherlock was happy. He was warm and comfortable. His transport was pleasantly sore and worn as well as full from dinner. John smelled wonderful and the press of his hard body against Sherlock's was both comforting and devastatingly addictive. Sherlock managed to move his head enough to press kisses to John's forehead. “I love you John. I think I'm falling asleep.”

“That's okay love. Sleep as long as you want my sweet man. I love you.” So many wonderful words to dance through Sherlock's sleeping mind. His body still slightly buzzing from the intensity of his orgasm Sherlock's breathing slowed and became even and regular. Sometimes his hand twitched or his toes. His eyes fluttered a bit and his mouth occasionally quirked in smiles or frowns.

Exhausted as he was John couldn't fall asleep. He was too engrossed with watching Sherlock sleep and being amazed over and over again that this angelic creature in his arms loved John to distraction. At one point Sherlock's arms came up slowly and gathered John tight to his body. Sherlock was definitely asleep but he still managed to say. “You can never leave me John. Never.” John's breath caught in his throat when he realized that even in his dreams Sherlock feared losing John.

“ _Never_ Sherlock. I'm _your_ John and I will _never_ leave you. _I love you_. I think you're _brilliant_. Marvelous. Amazing. Beautiful.” John began to whisper compliments and reassurances to his sleeping lover. Sherlock's brow smoothed so John continued. “I want you to be mine and only mine. I love you. I love how crazy you are. I love how rude you can be. I love how sweet you secretly are. I love how relentless you can be. I love how sometimes you're like a big kid that has to have his way. I love how you play music. I love how you see so much. I love how nothing about you is easy but it's all worth the effort. I love how much you fight with your hair and I love how you bite your lip when you're lost in thought. I love how you move. I love how you are when you're still. I love your changeable eyes and the sharpness of your tongue. I love how fearless you are, how brave, how committed you can be. I love how you can stand alone but you're still willing to let me stand with you. That's what I want Sherlock. I want to stand with you, not rule you or guide you or make you do anything except what you were born to do. I just want to love you, any way you'll let me. Forever if I can Sherlock. That's how much I love you. I want us to be together until the end of time.”

John kept whispering, his words coming slower and slower as his eyes grew heavy. Sherlock held his lover tight to him all through the night hours and both of them wore small little smiles. _Sherlock dreamed of a small cottage someplace quiet where ancient versions of he and John pottered around tending potted plants and beehives, their hair gray and thin to go with the heavy lines and wrinkles on their happy faces. John dreamed of Sherlock with paper wings that fluttered and beat as they carried the unearthly form of the detective here and there. Little puffs of air from John kept the detective afloat, both men laughing merrily as they played back and forth. Eventually Sherlock caught his lover in his arms and John spent the night dreaming of a feathery embrace far above the surface of the earth with only clouds to bear him up_.

Sherlock's morning seduction went much better this time round. John woke up feeling overheated and found that he was being straddled by a very aroused Sherlock. John's erection had joined the party some time before the rest of John's body and stood at attention right next to Sherlock's. “Good. You're awake. I was beginning to feel a little odd.” With those words Sherlock took both their cocks in a lube slicked hand and began to stroke both of them at the same time with his long and extremely talented fingers. “Oh god John!”

“Sherlock. Oh god. Good morning. Oh!” Sherlock had begun to rock his hips as well, grinding himself down onto John. The sensation was hard and delicious, sending shocks of pleasure all through John's rapidly wakening body.

“I woke up hard. You were too. Lube was right there. Read about this. Frott...” began Sherlock.

“Don't care.” interrupted John who pulled Sherlock down for a scorching kiss. Morning breath or not both men attacked each other's lips like their lives depended on it. John reached down with his free hand and enjoyed a fleshy handful of Sherlock's marvelous ass. He could feel the flex of muscle as Sherlock drove his hips relentlessly back and forth. “Beautiful. You're so sexy. So fucking hot.”

Sherlock flushed. John's words made him heat up even more and his hips drove onward with greater ferocity. He had woken up so hard, so full of desire. John's body was beautiful and tempting, his perfect cock already roused and calling to Sherlock. He was glad he'd gone with his impulse because right now he felt he was only moments away from stunning completion. “John. I'm close.”

“Me too baby. Keep going. Don't fucking stop. I'm gonna…Sherlock. Oh god. Just like that. Yeah. That's it love. This is so fucking good.” John's hand slipped into the cleft of Sherlock's ass, the tip of his finger swirling hard around Sherlock's very tender entrance.

“ _John!_ ” Sherlock could give no more warning than that before he was streaming come all over John. When Sherlock's hand clenched involuntarily John grunted deeply and moaned his way through a satisfyingly messy orgasm. Sherlock fell toward the side immediately this time and lay there sprawled out and panting. John's stomach was a mess of semen and precum but his hand just lazily swept back and forth through it. Grinning foolishly Sherlock watched as John toyed with the mixture of their essence and felt satisfied that his DNA was soaking into John.

“We definitely need to shower.” said John after a bit. Sherlock nodded weakly and forced himself to sit up. Helping a very sticky John out of bed they tottered to the shower and laughed their way through a brief but thorough wash. They were much enlivened by it and called in for breakfast while Sherlock leafed through various brochures on entertainments in the city. While they ate they planned a day out, both men content to keep everything low key. While they did intend to spend some time as tourists their primary interests were more than accommodated inside their hotel room.

On their way out Sherlock was flagged down by the person at reception who waved a small envelope at him. “One minute John.” said the detective. He didn't have a clue who would be leaving him messages in Italy. It was a plain sheet of paper that could be found in printers anywhere. _Times New Roman_ font spelled out Sherlock's name on the outside. He stood at the counter and thumbed it open.

“ _He should not have interfered_.” _What?_ Sherlock turned the sheet over to see if there was anything else on it. Nothing. Sherlock turned to walk back to their spot as he examined the paper closely. He was all the way there before he looked up and failed to see John. Sherlock looked around quickly. _John wasn't anywhere to be seen_. He looked back to the reception desk. A different woman was standing there now.

Sherlock stilled and grew calm. _Someone had taken John while distracting Sherlock with a simple trick. John had been standing right by the exit_. Sherlock strode back to the desk. “The woman that just gave me this, who is she?”

The receptionist looked confused. “Sir? I am the only person working the front-desk today.” Sherlock cursed himself. _The simplest ruse had been the most effective. He'd assumed that because the woman was behind the counter that she worked for the hotel. Stupid! Now he'd lost John_. “I need to see you security tapes for the entrance. My partner was just taken away by someone. I need to find him.”

A manager was called. Sherlock explained everything, regretting yet again his deletion of Italian which would have made the whole mess so much easier. Finally deducing an affair between the manager and the concierge Sherlock blackmailed the man into releasing the tapes. Frantic, Sherlock found the time stamp he was looking for as he quickly reviewed the recordings.

_Men dressed in black. Same shoes as the men from the_ Apertura _incident. Retaliation. John had stopped an attack or possible brazen kidnapping. A statement of some sort was being made by targeting the diplomat. Where had he been from? Sherlock had been too love-struck by John to pay attention._ He concentrated, focusing on the brief images he recalled from his sweeping glances. _The letter_ A _. The woman at the desk had worn a necklace with that letter on it. It was tattooed on the inner wrist of the diplomat in question. Sherlock had noticed it in passing when they'd shaken hands. Who would want this particular diplomat dead or at least punished? Someone powerful enough to risk plucking a visitor right from their hotel behind the back of their famous detective boyfriend. Legitimate government was unlikely so that meant the criminal class. Upper level operators then, not street-level thugs. Whoever this was had clout, confidence and obviously cash. They also had John and no one touched Sherlock's things_.

Sherlock left the security office and pulled out his phone. There was only one call to make. “Someone kidnapped John. I'm going after him. I need unofficial help. I'll text with a location to meet. ASAP.” Sherlock hung up. Mycroft couldn't help him here but if Sherlock and John both went missing someone should know. He was more than capable of tracing Sherlock and John's movements up until now so he could play catch up if he wanted. There wasn't much Mycroft or Greg could to help Sherlock but it was of no matter.

Hailing a cab Sherlock was shortly on his way. He went back to _Apertura_ sweeping inside dramatically. The woman who checked them in on the first day was behind the counter and she gave Sherlock a welcoming and delighted smile. “Mr. Holmes! We are so glad you chose to return. Your previous room is taken but we can gladly assign you another, still _gratis_ of course.”

Glancing around to ensure no one was paying close attention Sherlock walked briskly behind the counter and shoved the woman into a small back office. Her necklace with the tell-tale _A_ on it slipped to the side. She looked terrified. “Where. Is. He.” hissed Sherlock. The woman went from being frightened to being darkly amused.

“You're too late Mr. Holmes. It's already too late.” Sherlock was a gentleman so he didn't break anything when he rendered her unconscious. There was only one place they could be. Taking her master key from her belt Sherlock raced to the elevators and punched the key for the top floor. The elevator seemed slow and there was no way to disguise it's arrival but when the doors slid open there was no one to greet him. The door to their old room was shut.

Sherlock walked over gingerly and pressed an ear to the door. He could hear voices laughing and joking inside. A sharp slap and John's voice rang out in anger. Wasting not another minute Sherlock used his stolen card to open the door. Hands grabbed at his arms and he was forced face down to the floor immediately. “John!” he shouted.

Sherlock's head was being pushed down but he heard John's muffled cry coming from his left. “Like a bitch in heat, told you.” mocked a very amused voice. _A man_. He continued speaking, his voice low pitched but not deep like Sherlock's. “He sniffed his bit of rough right out, no problem. Yeah, this is the one we want.”

Sherlock was jerked to his feet. He sought out John and felt his heart sink right to his feet. John was tied face down onto a large padded bench, his hands tied to the front legs, his ankles secured to the back. It didn't look comfortable but Sherlock knew that the discomfort probably didn't trouble John as much as the nudity. They'd cut every scrap of cloth off of John and laid him out for all to see. Sherlock's breathing grew steady and even as he channeled his rage carefully. He was surrounded by enemies and his John was their security. “What do you want with me?”

“Mr. Holmes. We've heard of you. You and your pretty little toy ruined some very delicately timed plans. Now you have to fix what you destroyed. It's rather time sensitive so you only have four hours.”  
The man speaking reminded Sherlock uncomfortably of John. He was medium height, had brown eyes and neatly combed hair. His mouth was neither broad nor narrow, his face wasn't beautiful but neither was he unappealing. He was ordinary. Plain.

“What do you need.” Sherlock didn't have leverage yet so he wasn't going to argue. He kept his eyes on John, saw the anger and humiliation in his lover's face. John was stripped bare and exposed and both of them hated it. Sherlock swallowed back his rage again and forced his eyes from John.

“The man your plaything saved. He has information on a certain flash drive. It's recognizable, a small cartoon horse with purple hair. We were taking him publicly for a reason, you ruined that. Now you have to go get the flash drive, bring it back here and we'll give you back your boy toy in exchange. Three hours and fifty five minutes.” The man sounded bored and Sherlock wasn't happy with how closely some of the other men were examining John.

“I need an address, a rough idea of what I'm dealing with and assurances nothing will be done to John. No one touches him in any way. He must be entirely unharmed when I return.” Sherlock couldn't look at John now. He had to stay focused. Glancing around Sherlock took in everyone else in the room. Seven men. All medium, forgettable, ordinary looking men. Sherlock grew worried. John was ordinary. Ordinary and hiding his true nature. These men were almost certainly the same. Who knew what kind of perverse skills they had at their disposal.

“No one here would dream of laying a finger or any other body part on your lovely little piece. Oh no Mr Holmes. He must be entirely untouched when we sell him on the block. You're wasting time Mr Holmes. Here is the address. Instructions on how to get inside and where to look. The problem is where the flash-drive is stored. A puzzle box. It's bolted to the desk and can't be removed. You must open the puzzle box to retrieve the flash-drive. The auction begins in three hours and fifty-two minutes now. We'll be selling Mr Watson online. He's old but there's a rarefied clientele that we cater to that would be glad to have him. If he's good he could be on the circuit for years before he's used up.” The man smiled a little smile so Sherlock made a note to kill him with particular slowness later on.

Holding out his hand Sherlock received a sheet of paper with instructions. He couldn't prevent himself from giving John one final look. John's face was filled with faith and determination. The humiliation had faded away and he gave Sherlock a solid nod. Sherlock nodded back, turned on his heel and left. There was no time to waste.

Taking a map from the front counter Sherlock swept outside, hailed a cab and went directly to the neighborhood in question. Texting furiously before he got out he finally tucked his phone firmly into his pocket and looked around. There was no time for finesse, no time to ensure he wouldn't get caught. John was going to be sold to know knows what kind of people and Sherlock really didn't care about what political career paid the price for John's safe return.

Keypad on the door. Simple. Sherlock was inside almost immediately. House empty. Good. There were security cameras all over but there was nothing Sherlock could do about that. He made his way swiftly through the house making his way to the diplomat's den. The puzzle box looked like a large disco ball. The sides were delicate filigree carved into a checkerboard pattern.

Like the Chinese puzzle boxes Sherlock could see that you needed to solve the puzzle by moving the tiles one at a time until the right combination was achieved. This one came with a scrambler. If you got the pattern wrong after a certain number of moves the entire puzzle would automatically reset. Sherlock knew there would be a finite number of resets before the entire device locked down irrevocably. He sat cross legged on the floor, his fingers tented under his chin. He considered the box carefully and sank deep into thought.

A computer security had been beeping and chirping. Sherlock regarded it for a moment before swooping over, long fingers flying over the keyboard. For twenty minutes he typed, clicked, scrolled and frowned. He got up and walked away without a second glance. Looking at the puzzle box one last time Sherlock began to quickly shift one tile at a time until a loud click rang through the room. Lifting out the flamboyant flash drive Sherlock pocketed it and walked out of the room after wiping his prints off of everything with his handkerchief.

He walked six blocks before he hailed a taxi, gave the driver two addresses and a large tip in advance to make it fast. He made it back to _Apertura_ with an hour to spare. Not wasting a second of his advantage Sherlock made it into the elevator in only a few strides and was pushing his way into the room as fast as he could.

They looked surprised. All the men had gathered around John, clearly enjoying the free show. John's eyes were furious and resolute. Sherlock's eyes widened fractionally before he coolly turned on his heel, walked up to the unnamed man and dropped the flash-drive into his hand. The man snapped his fingers and John's ropes were cut. Rubbing himself all over to get circulation back John limped naked toward Sherlock. Sherlock enfolded John in his long coat and they hugged each other tight, ignoring everyone around them. “Let's go John.”

They started to walk away when the man began to laugh. “Do you really think I'd let you just walk away Sherlock Holmes? I'm afraid not.” They heard a distinctive metallic click of a hammer being drawn. “Turn around.”

They turned, John still hidden in the folds of Sherlock's greatcoat. The other men looked frozen on the spot, clearly surprised. They hadn't known about this part of the plan. The man had a handgun pointed at John. “Don't.” was all Sherlock said. He sounded desperate, frightened.

The man laughed and Sherlock saw his finger begin to tighten. Whirling so his body was between John and the man Sherlock plugged his ears. A shot rang out and a body hit the floor.

The man lay crumpled, a small hole in the center of his head. “John, this was my _best_ coat.” groused Sherlock immediately. He shrugged off his coat and poked a finger through the bullet hole now through the back of it. John stood there naked and holding a small hand-gun.

“Where did you get this?” demanded the soldier, both men ignored the others in the room, and the other men were perfectly happy to be ignored by the armed madmen who stood between them and the only door out. John waved the gun around. “Why the fuck is it always me? Why are _you_ never the one tied naked to things or have bombs strapped to them or all the other ridiculous things that happen to me? _Why!_ ” John was shouting now.

Sherlock quieted him with a kiss. “I got the gun from Angelo's cousin. I'll have to get it back to him. We have to leave John, _right now_. The police are on their way, and you are naked. Get into the coat. Come on. Chop chop!” Sherlock forced John into the coat and raced the group of men to the door. John held up the pistol and they backed off. “It's too late gentlemen. We'll be gone before the elevator has a chance to come back up for you. The police will be downstairs after we go but before you can. Enjoy prison. I hear its hell.”

Sherlock ushered John out of the room and into the elevator while John kept his sights on the men and then on the doorway until they were safely gone. They remained on alert the entire ride down. They weren't safe yet. The woman was at the counter and she looked terrified. She averted her eyes so Sherlock and John edged out the door cautiously. Sherlock hailed the first cab they could and they made it back to their hotel.

A tall man was waiting for them. Sherlock didn't say a word, just inclined his head and let the man follow them up to their suite. As soon as their door closed John started shouting. “What the fuck! What was that? Who were those people! Who is this Sherlock?” Sherlock just took John in his arms and squeezed him tightly.

“You're okay John. This is Angelo's cousin Phillipe. He's going to take the pistol away. Those men were part of the local crime syndicate. They sell people. You were going to be sold. The man you saved when we got here had information, proofs against their organization. I had to bring it back and exchange it for you. I did.” Sherlock kissed John's head before urging him into the bathroom for a shower and some fresh clothes. John shook Phillipe's hand and promised to get Angelo to call more often.

Sherlock offered to pay Phillipe for his help but the man just laughed. “I think it's better if Sherlock Holmes owes me a favor, yes? I may need your help one day just as Angelo did.” both of them laughed, shook hands once again and then Phillipe left. Sherlock sat on the sofa and put his head in his hands. He sat there like that until the shower stopped and John came out just wearing a towel.

“Come here Sherlock.” Sherlock got up and went right over to John. John stepped close to him and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. With a shuddering gasp Sherlock held tight to John in return, burying his face in John's hair. John turned his face up and crushed Sherlock's mouth in a kiss. “I need you. I need you to take it all away.”

Sherlock understood. He stepped back from John and peeled himself out of his clothes. As soon as he was naked he and John were kissing one another savagely. Putting his hands on John's backside Sherlock tugged upward. John wrapped his legs one at a time around Sherlock's hips and waist, allowing Sherlock to carry him the few short steps needed to get to the bed. “Did they touch you John, any of them? _Did they harm you?_ ”

John shook his head. “Only enough to cut my clothes off and tie me up. They commented a lot. They were coming up with different ways of increasing my price.”

Sherlock ran his hands all over John. “They looked. They _saw_. They were watching you. _Hungry eyes_. That's what they had. If there hadn't been a sale...John.” Sherlock shuddered again. _His John!_ He almost couldn't bear the thought of it. _John sold on the flesh market and as who knows what! A bed slave? Soldier? Test subject?_ The possibilities were horrifyingly endless and Sherlock's hands shook.

“Please Sherlock. I need you. Right now Sherlock, right now.” John sounded upset and ready to break down. Sherlock reached for him and held him close, their mouths locked together. Sherlock pressed John down, covered him with his body, and touched him everywhere as many times as he could. Sherlock tried to remove every trace of the strange hands that had defiled the temple he worshiped. John arched into every touch, every caress. He needed this as much as Sherlock did, needed to be claimed again, purified.

Their erections brushed together and John groaned loudly. Taking Sherlock by surprise John rolled them both so he was astride his lover. Sherlock gazed up as John reached over to grab the lube. Silently John dribbled a fair amount out and onto Sherlock's hard cock. Sherlock frowned a bit when he saw John's hand slid between his own thighs to slick himself with the lube left on his hand. The doctor grasped Sherlock and positioned him. “John you're not ready.”

“I don't give a fuck.” said John roughly. He pushed himself down firmly, his cries of pain muffled by his own hand over his mouth. Sherlock lay there, shocked as his lover impaled himself on his now wilting erection. “Don't stop Sherlock. I need this. I fucking need this.” John began to ride slowly, whimpering and tearing up. Sherlock's eyes were wet but he obliged John by trying to relax and begin moving in a way that brought John some pleasure.

Sherlock took John in his hand and began to stroke John's now limp cock back into stiffness. “I love you John. I'll always love you. You were brave again today. So brave. They wanted to make you weak but you aren't. You're strong. So strong. So brave. So beautiful. So very perfect.”

John just began to ride smoothly. His pained cries began to change. Slowly his breathing grew faster, his cock stiffened in Sherlock's hand and eventually John's eyes were shut because of the pleasure he was experiencing, not because of the pain. “So big Sherlock. You're so big. It hurts but in a good way. It feels right. Good. So good.” John's voice was rough and deep. “Yeah. That's good. That's perfect. You're perfect. You saved me. I knew you would. You always do. You always fix things, no matter what. I love you Sherlock. I love you so fucking much.”

“I'd do anything for you John, anything. You know I would. I love you. I'd die without you. I never want to live without you. I can't be without you. I'd find you anywhere. I'd never stop looking. You're my John. Mine. Only mine.” Sherlock pulled John down until the smaller man was laying on his chest and John's legs were spread wide over Sherlock's. Sherlock drove inward hard and fast, their bodies slapping together as they grunted and panted with one another.

“I want you to come in me Sherlock. I want to be filled with you. I want to feel you hours from now. Come in me beautiful.” John's voice was almost harsh as he gasped and moaned between words.

Sherlock thrust and rocked as hard as he could. He pistoned in and out of John's tight backside, both men groaning continuously. Sherlock felt his body tense, heard his gasps grow louder and more broken. John's fingers dug into Sherlock's shoulders as he held on. Their lips were pressed together, not kissing exactly but frantically exchanging breaths as they drew close to their goal. Sherlock felt John's hips jerk spasmodically and that tipped him right over the edge.

Both men groaned long and deeply as they emptied themselves together. Sherlock's hips snapped upward reflexively and John moaned deliciously each time. “That's it love. Fill me up. Fuck it feels so good. I love the way this feels. I want you to fuck my ass every single day just for this.” _John did love it. He loved the hot wet spurt inside him. He loved the way Sherlock's cock expanded at the final moment. John loved the harsh gasp that told him that Sherlock was coming, loved the way his own orgasm ratcheted upward in intensity as Sherlock buried himself deep. He even loved how much it stung and hurt now_.

Sherlock helped a very sore John to lay to the side. The younger man climbed out of bed and fetched damp flannels to clean his doctor up with. He climbed back into bed with John and held him tight. John sighed with contentment. “Let's go home Sherlock. I'm done with this vacation.”

“One last thing though John.” Sherlock got back out of bed and John got to admire his very handsome posterior as Sherlock dug through the luggage. Concealing something Sherlock climbed back onto the bed and knelt in front of John. “I got this the day after we decorated the flat. I was waiting for the perfect moment but now I think I'd better just go with the first opportunity that comes my way. John Hamish Watson, you are the part of me that's been missing my whole life. A man can live without a heart for only so long and I think I've lived without mine for long enough. John, would you do me the eternal honor of becoming my husband?”

Sherlock extended his hand. In it was a small gunmetal gray box. With slightly shaking hands John opened it. Inside were two silver rings that fit tight together. Sherlock reached in and gave them a twist, taking them apart. “These two rings only fit with each other, just like you and I John. We only fit together. I want to be part of your life in any way you'll let me, for as long as I can. I love you John.”

John looked down at the rings. This wasn't a proposal based on desperation or fear. These rings were bought way before all this mess occurred. _Sherlock really wanted to marry John_. John was overwhelmed. His eyes filled and he couldn't speak. He nodded instead and grabbed Sherlock in for a tight hug. He kissed the detective all over before finally managing a single “Yes” in a thick hoarse voice. Sherlock shook a bit and pushed one of the rings reverently onto John's finger. John picked up the other and slid it onto Sherlock. Both rings fit perfectly.

“Let's go home.” Said John. Sherlock nodded and that was that. Time to head back to Baker Street and tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seemed to be a good place to stop for a minute. Their story clearly continues but there are so many roads they can go down I'm actually stuck for choice. Of course with the arrival of S3, and all attached surprises and revelations, the tangents are shooting out so fast I feel like I'm writing porcupine style. Coffee. Coffee is a must.
> 
> I appreciate suggestions or comments. Too much? Not enough? Not smutty enough or too many bits rubbing together? I don't have a discernible moral code so if I cross some kind of line I do so with total lack of awareness.

**Author's Note:**

> I invite comments. See something that just doesn't work, a glaring error or maybe you want to see something particular. Drop me a line. ;)


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